


Just A Fragment Of You

by all_those_big_ass_trees (orphan_account)



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, Eventual Smut, Fluff, Inspired By Sense8, M/M, Slow Build, Viktor has a little sister, Viktor lives in Moscow and Yuuri lives in Hasetsu, Viktor's mother is a bitch, Yuuri works in his parents' restaurant, but they don't remember, inspired by Kimi No Na Wa, they have dreams about each other, they want to find each other, this might be a reincarnated Viktor but reincarnated Viktor is still Extra af
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-27
Updated: 2017-04-22
Packaged: 2018-09-27 09:04:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 26,170
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9994733
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/all_those_big_ass_trees
Summary: "He was doodling two eyes, almond shaped and somehow cat-like, with brows like frost and with thin, long lashes like fairy wings. The right eye was almost completely covered by sidebangs. Yuuri stopped and stared at his drawing for a while, then reached for the eraser. His hand stopped in mid air, not sure about his own intentions.Then he erased the sidebangs and drew them back - but this time, he sketched them in front of the left eye.He had no idea why, but it looked better like this. It looked right."





	1. Alone together

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> hey, lovelies. I'm back with a new Viktuuri fic.  
> This is basically a Kimi no na wa-ish/Sense8-ish/Soulmate AU? weird.

**_Yuuri_ **

_The first time I saw him, I was ten._

_The truth is, I don't really know who he is._

_It's strange, because I don't remember his face. I don't remember anything about him. After I wake up, he disappears, and I know I should remember something, but I can't._

_Sometimes I feel the smell of rain when it's not raining. Sometimes I feel wood against my skin when I'm not even touching it. Sometimes I see memories that are not my own, and sometimes I see a past of mine that never existed. Sometimes I feel cold, even though it's summer and the cicadas are singing next to my window. When I was younger, just a teenager, there were moments when I could feel my hair tickling the skin on my back - but my hair was always short._

_He's always there in my dreams. Every single night. But he always disappears with the dawn. When I wake up, everything is blue for a second, and for a brief moment, I remember. Then the picture shatters into a million pieces, and I forget everything._

_I think he has blue eyes, but I'm not sure. I don't know how he looks like. But I remember some small things._

_The shape of his lips. The moonlight shaking in his eyes. His skin against my own. And sometimes, but just sometimes, I think I can hear him through the wind. It's probably just my imagination, but I think it's his voice._

_But who is he?_

_I don't know. I should know, but I don't._

_I know I had a dream yesterday, but I don't know what was it about._

*

May was already at the doorstep. The cherry blossoms chased each other in the air, and some of them - the especially playful ones - peeked inside the window of the restaurant and fell on the ground. After a short break, they continued the game inside, chasing each other on the floor of the kitchen and then taking a rest in the corner. Yuuri was standing next to the window, washing the dirty dishes, turning his head and yelling over his shoulder.

'Onee-san! Could you bring me the broom?'

The chatter from the restaurant mixed with the clinking of the dishes, and Yuuri could hear his sister's laugh from the dining room. He took a deep breath and he could feel the gentle, warm air of late April filling his lungs. Yuuri closed the tap, wiped his hands, then threw the dishcloth on his left shoulder and walked through the small kitchen to open the door of the storeroom. The small room was dark and cold, without any kind of window, but Yuuri knew this restaurant more than he knew his own room. He didn't have to turn the lights on and he didn't hesitate when he reached for something in the dark, moving his hands to the right and touching the hard material of the wooden broomstick. He turned around and closed the door, then he bumped into someone. The broom fell out of his hand and landed on the tile with a loud bang.

'Jeez. Do you need a new pair of glasses or what?' Mari asked.

'Sorry,' Yuuri apologized, but he glanced at his sister with a hint of judgment in his eyes as he leaned down to reach for the broom on the ground. His fingers touched the cold tile for a moment. 'I called you just a second ago, but you didn't-'

'I was busy,' Mari said, not letting her brother finish the sentence. 'Someone has to help out there, you know.'

Yuuri's knuckles turned white around the broomstick. The wood was dry against his skin.

'What do you mean?'

'I'm just joking, little brother. Relax!' she laughed, then she reached for Yuuri's head and messed his hair up.

'Hey!' Yuuri protested. He tried to reach for Mari as she ran away.

'What are you doing?' Hiroko asked, peeking inside the kitchen and adjusting her glasses on her nose. Her round cheeks were slightly rosy.

Yuuri heard someone talking in a different language behind him - it sounded like a little girl, but when he turned around, no one was there. Then she started laughing, and it was somehow familiar, yet completely new.

'Yuuri?'

'Sorry! What did you say?'

'I asked you what are you doing.'

'Oh, nothing. Sorry, mom,' Yuuri said with a nervous laugh.

Hiroko disappeared from the door, and Mari followed her to the dining room with a smirk on her face. Yuuri went back to the window and started sweeping the floor, trying to collect the petals.

The sun was shining inside the kitchen and casted a bright, white light on the clean dishes on the counter. A sudden gust of wind leaped inside and set the already collected flower petals free. They were playing on the floor like little pink marbles. Yuuri put the broom against the wall, then leaned on the window sill and looked outside. The fragile branches of the cherry blossom tree were slowly dancing in the wind, and they were casting a shadow on the river underneath them. The tree sacrificed hundreds of petals with every minute to give them to the river which was just a few steps away from the window. Yuuri could see the fish under the surface, and he could hear the familiar sound of the water trickling against the small stones of the riverside. The petals fell into the water and continued their journey as tiny boats. The thick scent of flowers were lingering in Yuuri's nose. It was almost intoxicating. A bird landed on a smaller tree on the other side of the river and it started singing. Yuuri was listening to it with a serene smile.

He breathed in the calming scent of spring once again, but he could feel something else, too. The bitter scent of coffee. He furrowed his brows, then closed the window and reached for the broom again.

He could feel the material of glass against his skin - it was cold, fragile, and slippery.

Yuuri blinked and let go of the broomstick, then he took a deep breath and reached for it again.

*

The evening was slow and quiet. The cicadas were singing softly in the distance. Yuuri was sitting on the porch, leaning back and holding himself up with his hands. He could feel the warmth of the afternoon sun still lingering under his palm where it was pressing against the dark wooden floor. The television was loud inside, and when he turned around, he could see his parents sitting next to the kotatsu and laughing at something. Yuuri turned back to the garden and he could hear the familiar sound of the sliding door. The wooden floor creaked and soon, Mari sat down next to him. She rested her back against one of the wooden pillars then reached for the lighter in her pocket. Yuuri could hear a long sigh from her, and the small cloud of smoke slowly dissipated in the air.

'What will you get for Mom's birthday?'

Yuuri looked at his sister, and for a brief moment, she could see the terror on his face. She rolled her eyes and breathed out a cloud of smoke once again.

'I can't believe this. You always do this-'

'Every day is the same,' Yuuri shrugged. 'I didn't realize it was close. Well, I don't know. Do you have any ideas?'

'Yep. I was thinking about a dog.'

'Huh?!'

'What? You know how much she loved Mayu.'

Yuuri had a bittersweet taste in his mouth.

'We all loved her. I don't think she would have time for a new dog.'

'Please!' Mari said, grabbing Yuuri's shoulders and shaking him. 'If you say yes, we can act like it was your idea too. I will take care of it, and you won't have to think about a present.'

Yuuri gave up. He was wobbling in her sister's arms lifelessly.

'Okay,' he breathed. Mari let go of him and patted him on the back.

Yuuri touched his shoulders to check if there was any permanent damage, then he burrowed his brows and looked up at the roof.

'Oh, it's raining,' he said.

'Huh? No, it's not,' Mari said with a frown, sticking her hand out and checking if Yuuri was right or not.

The soft sound of raindrops falling on the rooftop were lingering in Yuuri's ears. He glanced at the sky and waited for a while to see if he was right; but he wasn't. The billions of stars were gleaming like gems on the black satin of the night sky without any cloud disturbing them. Yuuri could still hear the rain, and it became louder with every second. He started to feel cold under the light fabric of his red shirt, and a cold breeze made him shiver. Yuuri didn't have to look at his sister to feel the weight of her suspicious look on his back.

'It's that thing again?'

The smoke was hurting Yuuri's eyes. He took off his glasses to clean them with his shirt, and while he was at it, he replied quietly.

'Yeah.'

'Is it getting worse?'

Yuuri was hesitating. Weird? Definitely. Interesting? Maybe. Bad? Not really.

'Yeah.'

 

**_Viktor_ **

_The first time I saw him, I was thirteen._

_It's hard to explain, because I don't remember his face. I don't remember anything about him. After I wake up, he disappears._

_Sometimes I feel sunshine on my skin when it's still dark and raining outside. Sometimes I feel cold steel against my skin when I'm not even touching it. Sometimes I see memories that are not my own, and sometimes I see a past of mine that never existed. Sometimes I feel warm, even though it's a chilly morning and everyone is wearing a coat outside. When I was younger, there were moments when I could hear a dog nudging my hand with its nose - but I didn't have a dog._

_He's always there with me. Every single night, but he always leaves me when the dawn arrives. When I wake up, everything is blue for a second, and for a brief moment, I remember. I see him. Then the picture shatters into a million pieces, and I forget everything._

_I think he has brown eyes. I'm not sure. I only remember fragments. Tiny little pieces._

_The shape of his lips. The redness of the sunset shaking in his eyes. His skin on my skin. Sometimes I can hear his voice, but it's probably just my imagination._

_But who is he?_

_I don't know. I should, but I don't._

_I know I had a dream yesterday, but I don't know what was it about._

*

The alarm went off, and Viktor reached for his phone with an irritated groan. He rolled on his back and glanced at the window. The bottom of the sky was deep red, melting into vivid orange and gentle pink, then crawling up to catch the sleepy blue on the top. Viktor could hear sirens from the street.

He felt like he forgot something important, but he didn't know what that _something_ was.

He sat up with a sigh, ran his fingers through his silver hair, then stood up and stumbled towards the two big windows. There was a tall bookshelf between them, packed with many different books with many different colors, but Viktor didn't reach for any of them. He stepped to the window and slightly opened it, just enough to feel the fresh, chilly air of the morning. The noises of the city slipped into the room and forced Viktor's eyes fully open. He could see the familiar sea of rooftops in front of him, with smoke from the chimneys lingering in the morning as the silhouettes of some mysterious, grey ghosts of the dawn. He could hear car engines, trains, buses, all mashed together into one familiar song, the song of Moscow waking up on a Monday morning.

Viktor started to feel the cold air on his skin. A shiver passed through him, then he reached up to close the window. He opened his wardrobe and put on a grey shirt, then he went to the bathroom and for a few minutes, he just stood there and stared at his reflection in the mirror.

Did he forget something?

Viktor shook his head and washed his face with cold water, then he reached for his razor and took his time to shave his face.

The loft was quiet. After he was done, Viktor knocked on the door of the room next to his, and when he didn't hear anything, he peeked inside.

'Ninushka?'

When he heard a protesting moan, Viktor went inside and sat down on the edge of the small bed. His sister was hiding underneath her blanket like a little hedgehog. Her toys and books were scattered on the floor.

Viktor could feel an iron fist around his heart.

'My goodness. Where is she?' Viktor asked, pretending like he didn't see her.

The little girl under the blanket remained quiet. Viktor looked around and made a worrying sound.

'Oh, no. Maybe she was taken by the toilet monster!' he said, then he grabbed the little bulge and started tickling his sister through the blanket.

The blanket started moving under his hands, and the sound of Nina's loud giggle filled the room with life. She kicked off the blanket and grabbed Viktor's hands to stop him. Viktor leaned down to her to palce a kiss on her nose, and Nina tried to push him away by putting both of her hands on her brother's face.

'Nooo, you smell like Mr. Pavlychev from school!'

Viktor stopped and looked at his sister with furrowed brows.

'Why, what does he smell like?'

'Like an old geezer,' Nina laughed, then she started screaming when Viktor attacked her with his tickling skills - again.

Viktor heard someone talking in a different language behind him. It sounded like a woman, but when he turned around, no one was there. Then she asked something again, and her voice was somehow familiar, yet completely new.

Nina took advantage of the moment and managed to slip out of her brother's arms. She got up, then jumped at Viktor's back and tried to mess up his hair.

'Hey, Nina!' Viktor protested, and reached back to catch her. 'We've talked about this. Not my hair, okay?'

Nina rolled her eyes and crawled back to the bed, then down to the floor. Viktor looked at her and for a moment, he felt like he didn't know her. She was standing there like an angel, the early sunrise behind her framing her body and making her light blonde hair dance like fire in the air. Her pale face and her bright blue eyes were somehow untamed and wild. Viktor reached for a pink hairbrush on Nina's nightstand, then glanced at his sister with a meaningful smile. Nina pressed her lips together, then sat down next to her brother and turned her back on him. Her hair reached down to her waist, and it was just as unruly as she was.

Viktor took her locks in his hands and started to brush through them gently.

'You don't wanna go to school today?' he asked after a few seconds of silence.

The clock was ticking on the wall. Nina shook her head. Her hair was soft and silky against Viktor's palm.

A car honked on the street.

'I have an idea. I pick you up after school, then we go and eat some donuts. What do you think?'

Nina glanced at Viktor for a moment.

'Can I pick anything?' she asked.

'Anything.'

'Even the Chocoring?'

Nina turned around to stare at her brother, and Viktor's lips curled into a smirk. He leaned closer to Nina and winked at her.

'Especially the Chocoring.'

Nina jumped up and ran towards the door, but halfway through she stopped and came back to kiss Viktor's face. Viktor laughed as he watched Nina jump all the way to the bathroom. He kneeled down and collected the toys from the floor, then put them on the cupboard. He turned back to made the bed, lifting the blanket up in the air a few times and feeling the scent of Nina's coconut shampoo in the air. Viktor looked around one last time and left, walking out in the kitchen and putting on the water for some coffee.

The white brick walls of the loft were starting to turn orange with the sunrise breaking through the huge windows. Viktor opened the fridge and took a bottle of milk out, then stepped to the cupboard and crouched to search for Nina's favorite bowl. He found it soon - the little bowl with the Avengers on it. When they bought it, Nina was outraged because the Black Widow - her favorite - was not in the middle of the picture. Viktor put the bowl on the counter to put some cereal into it, then just when he wanted to pour some milk on it, his hands stopped in the air.

'Ninushka? Will you eat your cereal now, or later?' he asked in a raised voice, but he didn't get an answer.

Instead, Nina ran out of the bathroom, then she sat down on her colorful chair next to the table. Viktor put the bowl and the milk in front of her, then quickly went back to the counter to grab the jug kettle and pour some hot water into a mug. The bitter scent of coffee filled the kitchen. The intoxicating smell of cherry blossoms were lingering in the air. Viktor felt the touch of a warm breeze on his face. He shook his head and put two slices of bread into the toaster, then reached for an empty glass to give it to Nina, because she always liked to drink some milk even after an entire bowl of cereal.

When Viktor touched the empty glass, it was hard and dry against his skin, like it was made of wood. He furrowed his brows for a moment, then took his mug and sat down to the table. Nina was eating her cereal, and her spoon clinked against the bowl every single time she reached for a new portion. Viktor was holding his mug in his hands, warming his palms around it and looking at Nina with a nostalgic smile.

'Do you want me to make some pancakes tomorrow?' he asked.

The steam of the coffee was slowly dancing in front of him. 

'Not really,' she admitted slowly.

'Why?'

'You can't really cook.'

Viktor's jaw dropped. Nina continued eating.

'What?! That's not true! I cook for you all the time!'

Nina looked up and kneeled on her chair to become taller, then she leaned forward and reached for her brother's face. She grabbed Viktor's cheek and pinched his skin. Viktor gently pushed her hand away and sat back, resting his back against the chair and folding his arms over his chest.

'Your magical pinch won't save you now,' he said with a serious expression. 'So you think my cooking isn't good?'

Nina finished her cereal then glanced up at Viktor with a careful smile. Viktor shook his head with a scoff.

'Fine,' he pouted. 'You know what? I'll cook something for you tonight, and if you like it, you have to make your bed for two weeks!'

'And if I don't like it?' Nina asked with honest interest on her face. The freckles on her nose seemed darker in the light of the rising sun.

'Well, then... then...'

Viktor took a deep breath.

'Then I have to make your bed. So nothing changes,' he admitted.

Nina seemed disappointed.

'Hey, why were you so sure that you won't like it?' Viktor bursted out.

Nina's tinkling laughter echoed back from the walls. She jumped up and ran to Viktor to tickle him, but Viktor was faster and he started to chase her around the loft. Nina was laughing so hard that her stomach started to hurt. She gave up and laid down on the carpet next to the couch, holding her arms up into the air. Viktor fell down next to her, trying to catch his breath.

'I surrender! I surrender!' Nina yelled.

Viktor chuckled.

'Okay. I'll spare you, but just this once.'

Viktor glanced at his watch, then he heard a quiet knock from the rooftop.

'Oh, it's raining,' he said, then sat up to look at the windows. 

The morning sun has disappeared behind a bulky, grey cloud, and the raindrops crashing against the window became bigger and bigger.

Viktor could smell the smoke of a cigarette in the air. He pressed his lips together and forced a smile on his face.

The smoke was hurting his eyes.

'Go get your umbrella, pumpkin. We'll be late from school.'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *sweats nervously* ummm....  
> so this was just a short introductory chapter, but I reallly hoped you liked it.
> 
> FEAR NOT, my friends - there will be porn later.  
> )


	2. Caught As A Bird Once Free

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As I always say, you can't have smut and fluff without angst. You know me... well. some of you don't. but still.   
> "dictionary": Ю (yu) - a letter of the Russian Cyrillic alphabet
> 
> WARNING: mentions of homophobia  
> 

Viktor glanced up at the sky while they waited for the street light to turn green. It didn't look like the grey clouds would leave anytime soon. Viktor looked at Nina in the mirror. She was staring out the window, and her eyes suggested that her mind was far, far away. Viktor wanted to say something, but then the light finally turned green. He took a right turn towards the school.

The raindrops were knocking on the windows.

'Can we stop here?' Nina asked, and Viktor glanced at her in the mirror with a confused frown.

'What? Why?'

Viktor didn't stop, but he slowed down and he didn't care about the impatient drivers behind him.

'I want to walk from here,' Nina said.

She was quiet. Like a mere whisper in the middle of a loud room.

'Absolutely not, Nina, it's raining.'

'But I want to get out now.'

'Nina, no-'

'I want to get out now!' she yelled, and Viktor steered the car off the main road and stopped behind a parking truck.

Viktor turned around. Nina was sitting in the back seat, staring at her legs and pressing her lips together. Her green coat looked like a vivid dream in a sorrowful, grey reality. The window wiper was screeching against the glass loudly. The other cars were driving past them quickly, splashing the windows with water over and over again.

When Viktor talked, his voice was distant.

'Nina, are they-'

Viktor could see Nina's lips tremble. She didn't let him finish. She reached for her bag and got out of the car. She put on her hood, slammed the door shut, then started running towards the school with her hair flowing in the wind behind her. Viktor jumped out of the car.

'Nina! Hey, Nina!'

His voice couldn't break through the grey curtain of the rain.

She didn't stop, and she didn't slow down. She was running past puddles, stepping into the water and not bothering with her shoes getting wet. Viktor was standing behind the open car door, grabbing it with his hand and watching his sister getting further and further away from him. The cold raindrops were running down his cheeks. He stood there until he saw Nina step inside the school building, then he sat back inside the car. He shut the door with a loud slam, then stared at the sidewalk for five long minutes. His thoughts were chasing each other in his head. He ran his fingers through his wet hair, then pulled his phone out of his pocket and typed his own name into Google.

Millions of articles and photos popped up, and Viktor didn't have to scroll to find what he was looking for. The first article was his wikipedia page, and the second was the one he was afraid of.

_Scandalous - three-time world champion spotted in a bar with a man_

_Photos of Viktor Nikiforov kissing a man - real or fake?_

_Caught! Retired ballet dancer Viktor Nikiforov's gay relationship EXPOSED_

Viktor's fingers were shaking. All he could see was his own face on the grainy photo. It was not clear, but it was obvious - it was him, leaning on the bar counter and melting together in a kiss with a lean, blond boy. He scrolled down and there were more photos, taken in the dim lighting but still sharp enough to be recognizable. It was him, kissing that guy again with his hand on the guy's thigh, taken from a different angle. There were several glasses on the counter next to them. On the next photo, they were standing in a dark hallway - possibly next to the toilets -, they blond guy was pinned against the wall, and his legs were wrapped around Viktor's waist.

Viktor's heartbeat was echoing in his chest.

He saw the comments under the article.

_'Is there anyone who's surprised about this? What a joke. The guy's a ballet dancer. Those are all fags.'_

_'Oh my god! I've been taking my daughter to his ballet classes every week! I'm shocked. I feel like a terrible parent. Guess we'll have to find a new teacher!'_

_'Who was that little shit who took these photos? How miserable do you have to be to do this? Leave him alone!'_

_'My little girl got into ballet because of this guy. She's his biggest fan. I hope she won't see this. What a terrible role model!'_

_'Why are you all so negative? It's his life. His sexuality is none of our business.'_

_'And this is the "man" who represented our country around the world. Outrageous!'_

_'What?! Noo, I can't believe this! Handsome men always turn out to be gay. So disappointed!'_

_'Well, I always thought he was a homosexual but doing this in public... disrespectful!'_

The raindrops against the window sounded louder and louder with every second. When Viktor tried to breathe, the air was sharp and cold against his throat. The wiper was running back and forth in front of him. A car honked on the end of the street, and Viktor could hear someone shouting. The sweat was cold on his forehead.

He could see himself on that day - just a few days ago.

Nina slept at a friend's house. Viktor was at home.

It was that day - the anniversary of their death. He tried to sleep. He really tried. But he couldn't - so he left in the middle of the night, got drunk, hooked up with a stranger, fucked him in the toilets, took him to the loft and fucked him again. By the time Viktor woke up that morning, the boy had already left. He didn't even remember his name. He's never done anything like this. Ever.

_Did Nina saw these photos? Did she read the articles?_

_No. That can't be. She doesn't have a phone and she doesn't use the internet._

Viktor could feel his hands go weak. He was feeling sick. Everything was spinning around him.

_That's why she didn't want to go to school. She didn't see the photos, but that doesn't mean the other kids didn't see them._

_They are probably being mean to her. They are probably bullying her._

_Because of my mistakes. It's my fault._

_All of this is my fault._

Viktor's grip tightened around his phone, then he tossed it on the back seat and started the car. He steered back to the main road without even looking around, and he almost crashed with a taxi. The taxi's honk filled his brain, and it ripped his ears apart, but he didn't care. He just didn't care. He drove off without apologizing or even looking back.

He was driving for an hour. Or maybe two. He didn't know. He had no idea where he was going. His mind was blank.

After two hours of driving around in Moscow aimlessly, Viktor stopped the car in the suburbs, next to the riverside of Moskva. He pulled out a pack of cigarettes from the glovebox, and when his fingers touched a cigarette, it felt like a pencil.

He could smell flower petals and steamed rice in the car. He closed his eyes and pressed his fingers on his temple.

'I'm going crazy,' he whispered.

He shook his head and lit the cigarette, then got out of the car. The first smoke felt just as bad as the second, but he didn't stop. As he breathed out, he threw his head back and looked at the sky. The light was trying to break through the moth-eaten material of the grey clouds, which were slowly floating further and further away. The wind was playing with Viktor's hair, and the sun was trying to caress his face like a gentle mother. The smoke felt unnatural and wrong against his throat.

He didn't want Nina to smell it on him.

He tossed the cigarette to the stony ground then stepped on it. His eyes were fixated on the water of Moskva, the way it was shining in the sunlight like a green carpet with a touch of blue in it. When he sighed, he could smell the river - rich and earthy, and filling his whole head.

Viktor's phone started to vibrate in his pocket, and he reached for it with a curse under his breath. When he saw the name on the screen, he closed his eyes for a moment.

 _Perfect timin_ g.

_"I'm in the city. Coming to your apartment tonight."_

Viktor rolled his eyes and texted back.

_"I'm busy. Maybe another time."_

The reply was fast.

_"Don't be silly! I came all the way here because of you. See you around 6.00"_

Viktor pressed his lips together, and the muscles on his jaw twitched. He glanced at Moskva for one last time, then got back in his car and drove off.

*

Viktor stepped out of the elevator and opened the big, old sliding door of the loft. He kicked off his shoes and tossed his jacket on the couch, then put on some water for coffee. He looked at his watch - it wasn't even noon yet. While he waited for the water to boil, he sat down to the table and rested his elbows on the rough wood.

He never tried to hide his sexuality - he just never thought it was anyone else's business, so he never bothered to come out. If he had a relationship - which was rare - he always tried really hard to keep it private. And it worked, until now. It worked until he got so drunk from the grief and from his selfish self-pity that he made a huge mistake. He wished it could be just a bad memory, a drunken one night stand and nothing else, just a human mistake. But it wasn't - Viktor didn't care about his image, he didn't care about the hurtful comments and articles. All he cared about was his sister, and the things she had to face because of him.

He made a strong, black coffee and drank it a little bit too fast, which resulted in the whole loft spinning around him for a few seconds. The bitter taste of the cigarette and the coffee were lingering in his mouth. He buried his face in his palms and took a long, shaky breath.

_What should I do?_

_Take her out of this school and find a new one? Move away? Go back to St. Petersburg?_

_No... no, I can't do that. What kind of message would that be? I can't teach her that._

The sun broke through the huge windows of the loft and laid a warm, orange blanket on Viktor's body. He got up and put the dirty cup into the dishwasher, then peeked inside the fridge. He was trying to figure out what to cook for dinner, but his thoughts were too loud in his head. He sighed then closed the door of the fridge - and when he did, it sounded like he just shut a car door. He even felt the metal against his skin. He tried to pretend he didn't notice it, then walked to Nina's room.

Viktor kneeled down on the white floor. The wood creeked under his weight. He collected the books from the nightstand then put them back on the desk next to the window. He just wanted to turn around to make the bed, but his movement stopped when he realized he already did it this morning. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He sat down on the bed and looked around. The room was small, and it was obvious that its original purpose was different from being the room of a nine year old girl. Viktor kept his trophies and his costumes in this room, along with every junk he didn't use on a daily basis. The white walls were painfully blank and empty when Nina got here three years ago, and she didn't want to sleep in this room for weeks. Viktor called one of his friends, Mila from college and asked her to help him paint some decoration on the walls, but that didn't work either. Nina liked the flowers and the colors, but whenever Viktor turned the lights off and went to his own room, Nina started to cry and followed him, snuggled up against his chest and cried herself to sleep every single night. This continued for a long time. A very long time. She slept with Viktor for more than four months, and even after that, Viktor could hear her cry at night.

Viktor's eyes wandered to the photos on Nina's cupboard. She had a lot of them, and each and every one of them was honoring a different memory and a different fragment of the past.

Viktor, just at the age of nineteen, holding a baby in his arms and looking up at the camera with the widest smile humanity has ever seen.

A chubby, cheerful blonde woman, with Nina sitting on her lap and holding onto her arms.

Viktor, with a gold medal around his neck, Nina standing next to him and holding his trophy in her hands, lifting it up in the air and flashing a gap-toothed smile to their father behind the camera.

Nina with their old family dog, Makkachin, who died just a year ago and tossed Nina back into the deep silence she's always turned to when her soul was not strong enough to bare the pain.

Viktor would've give anything to change the past. To go back and tell his mother to be more careful and go to a screening test, to go back and tell his father that he is not alone and can't just give up yet. To go back and not letting him pull the trigger just a month after his wife died.

Viktor was here in Moscow when he got the call. The second call.

But the second call was different.

The second call left him angry. Full of regret. Full of rage.

There were still nights when he could see Nina's eyes when - after driving nine hours - he finally arrived to the police station in St. Petersburg to pick her up.

He couldn't forget that, and he never will. The fear, the confusion, the gut wrenching pain in her sweet, innocent eyes. Her lifeless body when he wrapped his hands around her, and the moment when she finally hugged back, the moment when she finally burst out in tears and she just cried and cried and cried.

He couldn't forget the day when he packed up everything in Nina's room in St. Petersburg and took her to Moscow, ripping her out of her old life, and tossing into an apartment she's never been in.

The day when he took her to school for the first time and left her there - he could still hear her sobbing in his ears. And he always will.

The day when his entire career and his entire life crushed under the weight of grief and under the weight of the mistake of a father - their father, who decided to end his life because he couldn't bare living it without his wife. Who decided to end his life and leave his six year old daughter behind, and to leave her to his son. To force him to fill the role of a brother and a father at the same time, to force him to fail at that every single day for months without any kind of help.

But Viktor could remember the day when Nina hugged him for the first time since their parents died and whispered something against his stomach, which sounded like 'thank you'. He could remember the first time she laughed in this loft, the first time she agreed to go and buy some donuts at the end of the street, the first time she told him about her day in school, and the first time she introduced a little girl as her best friend and asked Viktor if she could sleep at her place at the weekend.

He remembered each and every one of the warm and tiny kisses Nina ever placed on his face, the hugs, the tears, the smiles. Everything. And it made him so incredibly angry that there were some days when he dared to feel sorry for himself and for his career, when he dared to see Nina as a _burden_ even for a split second - and when it came to these moments, he felt so outraged about his selfishness that he couldn't even sleep.

Just like it was a few days ago.

*

_I'm heading to work. I see him for the first time, but he seems familiar. He is sitting on the train reading a book, and he looks tired. When he looks at me, his eyes seem ten years older than the rest of his face. Then he blushes and turns away. I want to ask for his number but I don't have the courage. I'm hoping he'll be there the next day - and he is. I say hi, and he gets confused, like he is not sure I'm talking to him. I invite him to dinner and he says yes. On the day of the date, I'm really nervous. We meet at the restaurant, and after dinner, I take him home. When he gets in my car, his cheeks are red and he can't look at me. When we get to his apartment, he jumps out of the car, then gets back and kisses me. After a few months, he introduces me to his parents and he cooks me his favorite dish._

_But what's his name?_

_I'm sitting in the class room when he comes inside. I see him for the first time, but he looks familiar. The teacher introduces him as the new student in our school. He is mostly alone. He's not very good when it comes to English. I think that's the reason behind his loneliess - he is afraid to talk. I sit behind him every day. I want to reach forward and touch his shoulder, but I don't have the courage to do it. Some of the girls laugh at him when he pronounces a word wrong during literature class. I get really angry and I stand up to defend him. He tears up and leaves the class, and I run after him. I stop him on the hallway and tell him that I'm going to help him with English. We meet every day after school. I see his smile for the first time, and he's beautiful. At the end of the school year, I write a letter to him and hide it in his backpack._

_But what's his name?_

_I'm at a banquet. I see him for the first time, but I feel like I know him. He gets really drunk and asks me to be his coach. I go to his house a a few months later, and it seems like he doesn't remember me. But he doesn't send me away - and the time goes by, he opens up to me and I open up to him. I reach for him and he takes my hand, then we step on the ice together._

_We're standing on the edge. The ocean's mist is cold on our cheeks. The lighthouse is like a peaceful giant behind us, trying to reach the clouds while throwing fireballs at the angry ocean. I toss my medal into the ocean. It's dark and the wind is embracing me with its ice cold hands, but when I pull him into my arms, I don't feel cold anymore._

_But what's his name?_

_He looks at me and a faint smile appears on his face, then it turns into a laugh. I lean forward and I wrap my arms around him. I feel like I'm home. His body is warm against mine. Our rings are gleaming in the sleepy sunset. I turn my head to kiss him, and his glasses are in the way but we don't care - he kisses me back, with the taste of his smile still on his sweet lips._

_Oh. I know. I remember you, my love._

_Your name is Yuuri._

_'Yuuri?'_

_'Hm?'_

_'Could you give me a pen?'_

_He looks up and furrows his brows._

_'Why?'_

_I sit up and turn towards the nightstand. Makkachin is sleeping next to my leg._

_'I want to write it down. I have to, so when I wake up, I'll remember.'_

_'What? Viktor? What are you talking about? You're not dreaming. Are you okay?'_

_I find a pen. I reach for it, then I push the tip against my palm and start forming the letters._

_Your name is Yuuri._

_Your name is..._

 

 

Viktor woke up to the sound of a glass shattering to pieces. He sat up on Nina's bed and stared at the floor. There was nothing there. No broken glass.

Everything was blue for a moment.

_Your name is... Your name..._

_Who's name?_

Viktor lifted his right hand and started to massage his left shoulder. He had a headache, and it felt like someone was hitting his head with a hammer repeatedly. He closed his eyes for a moment, and he heard a familiar voice behind his back.

'Viktor?'

He turned around with the speed of a lightning, but the room was empty. Whoever called his name, he wasn't there. Viktor stood up and glanced at his watch, and when he saw the time, a whole collection of curse words left his mouth. He needed to pick up Nina in fifteen minutes, and he didn't even buy anything for dinner.

Viktor rushed to the bathroom, then when he wanted to wash his hands, his whole body froze like a statue.

His heart was racing. The bathroom was upside down for a moment.

He was staring at his hand for seconds. Maybe even minutes. He was staring at the weird, clumsy letter on his left palm which kind of looked like a _'Ю'._

He knew he forgot something.

_But what? What was it?_

Viktor felt like something was on the tip of his tongue, but he couldn't grasp what was it. It was like a word, like a feeling, like a memory of the past, like a memory of the present. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't catch it. It was like sand between his fingers.

Viktor parked his car on the same spot where Nina got out earlier that morning, and he waited. He turned on the radio, and glanced at his palm for a moment.

_When did this got here? I must be a sleepwalker or something. There's no other explanation._

Someone opened the back door, and Viktor whinced. He turned around and saw Nina on the back seat, tossing her backpack next to her. Nina didn't look at him. Her eyes were fixated on her own legs. The articles and the photos popped up in Viktor's mind and he had to cough a little before he started talking.

'Hi, pumpkin,' he said with a gentle smile. 'Ready to eat some donuts?'

The music from the radio filled the silence. Nina shrugged, and Viktor felt like someone just grabbed his heart and ripped it out of his chest.

'Do you want to go home instead?'

Nina hesitated for a while, then she nodded.

'Okay,' Viktor said.

He started the car in silence, and even during the rest of the ride, he didn't say a word. Sometimes he glanced at Nina in the mirror, but she never looked at him. She was watching the other cars next to them, the people, the buildings. She didn't say anything, and Viktor didn't want to force her. He knew it wouldn't work. It never did.

After they got back to the loft, Nina went straight into her room without even eating anything. Viktor hesitated. He sat down on the couch and he stayed there for a while, waiting for Nina and giving her time to come outside if she wants to, but she didn't. Viktor stood up and walked towards her room. When she lifted his hand to knock, he could see that his fingers were shaking.

'Ninushka, can I come in?'

Viktor was looking at the floor. Long silence - then a very quiet answer.

'M-hm.'

Viktor slowly stepped inside. Nina was sitting at her desk with her back turned on Viktor, facing the window and drawing something. Viktor looked at her for a while, then he took a few steps and sat down on Nina's bed.

Nina was still drawing. The sound of the pencil against the paper and the ticking of the clock on the wall were the only sounds in the room.

'Are you sure you don't want donuts, pumpkin?'

'I'm not hungry.'

'Okay.'

The ticking of the clock. The pencil against the paper. The muffled noises from the street.

'Do you need help with your homework?'

'No, thank you.'

'Okay.'

Nina's hair was falling on her back like a beautiful, unique veil made from silk. Her steady breathing echoed in the room.

'What are you drawing?' Viktor asked carefully. His voice was weak. Somehow desperate.

'Us.'

'Can I see it?'

'Not yet.'

Silence.

Viktor clasped his hands and stared at the floor.

The ticking of the clock. The pencil against the paper. The muffled noises from the street.

'Nina, we'll have a guest tonight.'

Nina stopped. She put down the pencil and finally turned around with her chair. She looked into Viktor's eyes for the first time since he picked her up from school.

'Who?' she asked with true interest.

'Valentina.'

A frown appeared on Nina's face.

'Does she have to come? I don't like her.'

'I know. I don't like her either. I told her I'm busy, but she really wants to come.'

'Is she angry at you?'

Viktor raised his brows, and he had to take a moment before he could say anything. Nina turned away and continued to draw, and Viktor stared at her back for long seconds. 

'Why would you think that?'

Nina shrugged.

Viktor took a deep breath.

'Are _you_ , Nina? Are you angry at me?'

Viktor could hear sirens from the street. The sound was getting closer and closer, then it fell silent. Viktor was waiting for an answer, for something, for anything. 

Silence.

'Do you want me to leave?'

Viktor was looking at Nina with his fingers entwined and holding onto each other, knuckles white and heart pounding. When Nina's head moved, it was barely noticable - but it was enough for Viktor to see. He pressed his lips together then stood up, and his mouth opened for one last sentence, but he changed his mind and left.

Viktor went into the kitchen and sat on the tall bar stool next to the counter. He rested his elbows on the cold white marble and covered his face with his hands. He took several deep breaths to stop himself from crying.

He was angry that Nina didn't talk to him, and he was sad, and confused, and ashamed. He was angry because of that night in the bar, he was angry because it's been a long time since he had to feel bad about his sexuality, and he was angry because there were people out there who blamed Nina for his own mistakes. He was sad because he never wanted her to experience bullying in school, and because he never wanted her to loose her words again from the pain. He was confused because he didn't know how to reach her, he didn't know what to tell her. Nina always knew that Viktor didn't like girls - and she had absolutely no problem with that. She understood that within five seconds and she never asked him about it again.

And he was angry, because he only had to make one mistake, and then suddenly, everyone hated him. No matter what he did before - they didn't care about anything else.

Viktor glanced at his watch; it was half past four. He realized that the visit of a very unpleasant guest is getting closer with every minute. He reached for his phone and started to look for some Italian recipes, because Nina absolutely loved those. He found something named 'Pasta Fagioli' which was described as a soup, but also hearty enough to be considered a pasta dish as well. He decided to check the list of ingredients to see if he had everything for the food. He took the phone with himself and started to read the list out loud.

'Let's see... olive oil, carrots, celery stalks... okay. Garlic, yeah... tomatoes, parsley, parmesan, pasta, beans... well, no beans. Whatever.'

Viktor took out a cutting board and a knife from the drawer and started to prepare the ingredients in silence. When he was done with the onions and the garlic, he reached for the tap to wash his hands. When the cold water touched his skin, he noticed the 'Y' on his palm once again. He poured some soap into his hands and washed them thoroughly, making sure that the letter disappeared. He closed the tap and wiped his hand in the kitchen cloth throwed on his shoulder, then continued his work. When he was done with everything and organized every ingredient in a separate bowl, he heated the oil in a stock pot and put the onion, the carrot, and the celery in - just like it said in the recipe. While he waited, he leaned on the counter for a moment with his palms pressed against the marble - and his fingers touched something warm and soft.

Like a blanket.

Viktor pulled his hands away as if he had just burned himself. He took a step back and checked the pot, then he added the garlic. He just wanted to search the cupboard for plates when he heard a noise behind his back. He turned his head and his hands stopped in the air. Nina was kneeling on a chair next to the table, reading the recipe on Viktor's phone with great concentration. Viktor's breath was caught in his throat as he saw his sister, and he turned around to face her.

'Is this okay?'

Nina looked up with a confused face. Her long hair was in a ponytail.

'I mean, this recipe,' Viktor added.

Nina's lips curled into a faint smile, then she nodded.

'M-hm. It looks tasty. Can I help?'

'Of course, pumpkin. Come on, put on your apron.'

Nina jumped off the chair and took her green apron from one of the drawers. It had tiny little drawings of frogs on it. She folded it out and tried to put it on, but no matter how she tried, she couldn't tie it behind her neck.

'Vitya,' she said like she wanted to make an important announcement. 'I can't.'

'Oh. Wait a second.'

Viktor put the kitchen spoon on the counter and he crouched down behind his sister. He brushed her hair away and tied the apron around her neck and her waist, then caressed the sides of her arms.

'Ready.'

They finished the rest of the recipe together. Nina was disappointed about the absence of the beans but she quickly recovered when Viktor reminded her that because of this, they can add a double amount of pasta to the soup. The recipe said that the soup had to simmer for one or even two hours, so after everything was done, Viktor lowered the heat.

'Can I taste it?' Nina asked, standing on her tiptoes behind Viktor and trying to reach his shoulders with her hands.

'Not yet, Nina,' Viktor said. 'It doesn't have a taste yet.'

Nina let out a disappointed groan but she accepted the situation, then she ran to the coach, laid on her stomach and turned on the television. Viktor was cleaning the countertop and washing the dirty knives and bowls. 

'Do you have homework, little one?'

'Yeah,' she said in a hesitant tone.

'Well, make sure you do it, okay?'

'Okay.'

'Let me know if you need any help.'

'M-hm.'

It was getting dark outside. Viktor turned on the lights above the table, then sat down on the armchair next to the television. The vibrating colors on the screen were reflecting on Nina's face. She was watching some kind of series on Disney Channel. Viktor's eyes were glued to the screen but he didn't actually see anything, he wasn't paying attention. He was so lost in his thoughts that he didn't really blink either, and after a few minutes, he couldn't handle the silence between him and his sister anymore.

'Nina?'

'Hm?' she said, still watching the tv, laying on her side.

'Can I ask you something?'

'M-hm.'

'Can you be honest with me?'

'M-hm.'

'Did something happen in school? You don't have to tell me about the details. But did something happen?'

Nina's eyes were fixated on the screen. Her expression didn't change at all. She remained silent for a while, then she nodded.

'Yeah.'

Viktor could feel his heartbeat in his throat. It was hard to take a breath. His mind was racing - he was thinking about what to say next. He had to choose his words wisely, because he knew that Nina won't talk about anything she doesn't want to.

'I promise I won't ask you again. But can you promise me something, too?'

Nina sat up and pulled her kness against her chest. She glanced at Viktor and nodded again. Viktor was looking at her with a loving, gentle smile.

'When you're ready to talk about it... Will you come to me and tell me what happened?'

Nina looked at her knees and started to play with her hair.

'M-hm. I promise,' she said, then stood up and walked to Viktor.

She lifted her hand and held out her little finger. Viktor leaned forward and they locked their little fingers together, then Viktor caressed Nina's face and winked at her. She chuckled, and just when she laid back on the couch, the doorbell rang.

'What?' Viktor said, jumping up and looking at his watch. 'She's early.'

'I don't want her to come inside,' Nina whined, burying her face into a pillow. 'Tell her to go away!'

'I can't. You know she would go and climb in through the windows.'

Nina laughed out loud for the first time since she came home for school, and it was like the most beautiful song Viktor has ever heard in a long time.

The doorbell rang again.

When Viktor opened the big sliding door, he could already smell the heavy scent of lilac and wisteria in the air. He took a step back to let the woman inside. She was wearing white high heels, tight, grey linen pants with a white shirt and a long, grey spring coat. Her silver hair was in an elegant bun on the top of her head, and her golden necklace and bracelet made a jingling sound as she stepped inside and leaned forward to kiss each side of Viktor's face - but her lips didn't actually touch his skin.

'Hello, sweetie! How are you?' she said in a honey-glazed tone, taking her sunglasses off. Her red lips curled into a wide, bright smile, and her ice cold blue eyes inspected every single part of Viktor's face.

Viktor forced a smile on his lips and nodded.

'I'm fine, mother,' he said, then helped her out of her coat.

'Oh, hello, Nina!' Valentina said in a high pitched voice. 'Look at you, how big you are! How's school, sweet girl?'

'It's fine,' Nina shrugged, without even sitting up or looking at Viktor's mother.

'She still doesn't talk much,' Valentina said, and her chuckle sent a cold shock through Viktor's body. Valentina went to the kitchen and looked inside the pot.

'Hm, what is this, Vitya?'

'Um, it's an italian dish,' Viktor said, following her to the kitchen and taking out a glass from the cupboard.

Valentina pressed her lips together and smelled the soup, then she frowned and without saying anything, she sat down to the table. Viktor poured some red wine into the glass and put it in front of his mother.

'Thanks, sweetie,' she smiled, touching Viktor's hand for a moment then taking a sip from her wine. 'Hm. Not very good.'

Viktor sat down.

'I'm sorry, I don't have anything else.'

Valentina didn't say anything. She looked around in the loft, and her sharp eyes were judging everything from the walls to the furnite. Viktor glanced at the back of the couch, and Nina was still there, but he couldn't see her. The television filled the silence for a while, then Valentina turned to her son and put her wine down on the table. Her nails were as red as blood.

'So. You're still a _teacher?'_ she asked, saying the last word like it was some sort of a disease.

'I'm not... I'm not technically a teacher. I'm a ballet-'

'Oh, I know, I know,' she waved impatiently, resting her right hand at the back of her chair and raising her brows. 'I still think you should do something else.'

The soup was quietly cooking behind his back, and Viktor looked at the ceiling for a moment before he answered.

'I can't, mother. And I don't want to do anything else. I do it because I like-'

'Why is that?' she asked with a scoff. 'You're not going to get any younger! Christ, you're already twenty-eight, and you still don't have a decent home or a family.'

Valentina shook her head and sipped from her wine again. Viktor was staring at the wall behind her, then he took a deep breath and smiled at her.

'Let's talk about you, mother. How are you?'

'Oh my dear, I'm getting old. Fifty! What a terrible number. Paolo just kicked me out last week. Can you believe that? And I told him, listen, I told him-'

Viktor was looking at her face, he could see her lips moving, but after a while, he just didn't hear her. And he didn't want to. His mother continued her story for long, long minutes, and she didn't realize that Viktor wasn't really paying attention to her, even though he was nodding and smiling politely. After like half an hour, Nina came to the kitchen and touched Viktor's arm. Viktor understood and got up, and while Valentina was still talking, he checked on the soup and lifted Nina up so she could stir it.

'Oh, for god's sake,' Valentina said suddenly. 'Put that girl down, she's not a baby anymore! If you want to stir that soup, get yourself a chair, my dear. No wonder she doesn't talk, Vitya! You treat her like a toddler.'

Viktor acted like he didn't hear her, and he only put Nina down when she was done with stirring. She wanted to run back to the couch, but Viktor touched her arm and shook his head. Nina glanced at the floor then nodded, and took the bowls from Viktor's hand and put them on the table without even looking at Valentina. Viktor turned off the stove, then put the pot on the table. He turned back to get a ladle, and when he sat down, Nina sat next to him. He served some soup for Nina and then to his mother, and lastly, to himself. When Valentina tasted it, he could already see her opinion on her face.

'How's the food?' he asked, already expecting the answer.

'Well, I don't see the hype about Italian food. If you ask me, it's like drinking tomato sauce and nothing else. You really need a woman in this household, Vitya.'

'That's not true!' Nina blurted out. 'It's good! I like it!'

To prove her point, she started to eat even faster, clearing her bowl within a minute then lifting it up in the air to ask for another portion.

'You don't have to eat that much, pumpkin,' Viktor said quietly.

'It's good,' Nina insisted, pressing her lips together and shooting a hateful look towards Valentina. 'I want to eat more, please.'

She looked at Viktor and nodded, then Viktor sighed and did as she asked. Nina started to eat her second portion with even more enthusiasm.

'Why don't you visit me sometime, Vitya?' Valentina asked, ignoring Nina. 'I would show you how to cook proper Russian food.'

Viktor looked at her for a second, then he continued eating. It was kind of bland. It wasn't good. Valentina was right - it just tasted like tomato sauce. Viktor felt like someone was squeezing his throat as he heard Nina's spoon clink against her bowl over and over again.

'I don't really have time for that,' Viktor answered.

Valentina laughed.

'That's what you always say to women? But you have a girlfriend, don't you?'

The television didn't sound loud enough in the background.

'No, I do not. Because I'm still gay, mother.'

Valentina snapped. She slapped her right hand to the table, and Nina whinced in fear. Viktor reached for Nina's hand under the table to caress it for a moment. The girl was staring at her bowl in silence, and she didn't move.

'Oh, for the love of god!' Valentina bursted out, then forced a smile on her face and tried to sound cheerful. 'Don't be silly, my dear. You're still going on about that? I know that the ballet school did all kinds of things to your head, but you really shouldn't say such things in front of this poor child.'

Viktor wanted to take a deep breath but he failed. Nina stood up and ran to her room.

'Nina? Nina, come back here!' Valentina yelled, but Viktor cut her off.

'Leave her alone,' he said, trying to remain calm and collected. 'She doesn't have to listen to your bullshit.'

Valentina narrowed her eyes and leaned closer to her son.

'Watch your mouth, Viktor,' she said strictly, then lowered her voice. 'I've seen those photos on the internet. What were you thinking? You're _my_ son! You can't do that, you just can't. Can you imagine the _horrors_ I had to endure because of that? Oh, christ. I can't even imagine what this poor girl has to put up with. Do you bring those _men_ here? Does she have to see that?'

Viktor was blinking at her for long seconds before he could speak.

_'What?'_

His voice was barely audible. He was staring at his mother with his lips parted.

'That girl needs a father figure. And now, she doesn't even have a real _man_ to look up to!'

Viktor's voice was distant. Like a cold winter breeze in a lonely, quiet night.

_'How dare you?'_

Valentina raised her brows.

'Watch your-'

Viktor could feel the anger boiling inside him. It was like a beast, trying to break free and flip the table on this woman.

'Oh, I think you should watch yours, mother. I've been taking care of my sister since the day dad died. You come here once a year and you always do this. You try to criticize me, humiliate me, bring me down, just like you always-'

'Oh, come on. She is just your half sister. She's not even your real sister!'

Viktor stood up in a heartbeat, kicking his chair back and staring at the floor with his fingers shaking.

'I want you to leave right now,' he said quietly, not even looking at his mother.

_'Excuse me?'_

'I want you to leave. Now.'

Valentina snorted, then put her spoon down with a loud clink and stood up.

'You should be ashamed of yourself, Viktor,' she pouted.

Viktor didn't say anything just nodded and followed her to the door, then opened it for her and opened it _wide_. This time, he didn't help her with her coat, and Valentina stormed out without a word.

Viktor slammed the door shut with a little bit too much force. He was standing there for a while, grabbing the handle with his hands shaking, and with an iron fist around his throat. Then he went back to the kitchen and sat down, burying his face into his palms and trying to forget everything that woman just said.

Soon, he felt a little hand on his thigh.

He looked up, and Nina was there, standing next to him with a paper in her hand. She put the drawing on the table.

Viktor turned his face to see it, and when he did, his heart skipped a beat.

It was him and Nina, holding hands on the seaside. There was a big, smiling sun above their heads. Nina was holding Viktor's left hand, and someone else was holding his right - a man.

They were all smiling.

The weight of the entire day crashed against Viktor's shoulders and he broke down in tears, trying to hide his face from his sister but he couldn't. Nina climbed on his lap and wrapped her arms around his neck, hugging him like a little monkey and placing a little, soft kiss on his face. Viktor held her in his arms and he just cried and cried, not even bothering with holding it back anymore. He could smell the light scent of coconut in Nina's hair. Her little hands were holding onto him like he was her only anchor in this world.

'Vitya?'

'Y-yes?' Viktor asked through his tears.

'I don't think you're not a real man. I think you're really manly.'

Viktor chuckled. His tears were trickling down his face like a small, crystallic creak. His skin was burning on his face, and his eyes were heavy.

He turned his head and kissed Nina's forehead.

'Thank you, pumpkin.'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, Viktor's days are usually better than that, OKAY? I hope the homophobic stuff was not too much! I'm a queer person myself and I know how this feels, so it was hard to write - but I hope it was not overwhelming to read! <3


	3. Forgotten Wings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for the super slow update guys. I guess it's kind of a mistake to work on two fanfictions at the same time, but I won't abandon them because I just couldn't do that. But sadly, I don't have time to update them as often as I want to, so I'm sorry and thank you for your patience.
> 
> Also this fic is kind of a challenge for me, so it takes more time to write, but I hope you still like it.
> 
> Yuuri's POV. This is a slow chapter, but I needed to introduce a small part of Yuuri's life too.

Yuuri opened his eyes and sat up with a long, painful groan. The dim light of the dawn was reflected on the clock on his nightstand - it was 5.20. He didn't even have to set an alarm anymore.

He put on his glasses and stood up to pull back the curtains, but he needed to stop for a moment. Everything went black and silent, and the room took a 360 degree turn around Yuuri. He pressed his lips together, then tried to take a deep breath. He slightly opened the window to let some fresh air inside. The morning was peaceful, with the small river trickling under his window and the birds singing in the distance. The branches of the cherry blossom tree were trying to stretch towards Yuuri's room, and the scent of its flowers traveled inside with the morning breeze instantly. The sky was still dressed into a deep blue dress with a million glitters on its soft fabric, slowly turning into lighter and lighter at the horizon. Yuuri always loved the dawn. It was lonely in the best possible way - the majority of the town was still asleep, leaving Yuuri alone with the sky and with the river, making him feel like he had a special connection with the world, a special secret. Everything was quiet and honest.

Yuuri closed the window and put on his red shirt with his black sweatpants, then left his room as quietly as he could. The wooden floor creaked under his feet as he slowly walked downstairs. He stepped into the kitchen and emptied the trash cans, then opened the back door and took the trash outside. A dog started barking at the end of the street, and Yuuri immediately thought about Mayu - the only thing he felt about Mari's idea was that he didn't want a new dog. Mayu died just eight months ago, and she's been with them since Yuuri was twelve years old. He wasn't ready for a new dog, but he couldn't admit that to his sister.

Yuuri went back into the kitchen, looked around, then reached for a cloth. He started to clean the counter and the ovens, not really paying attention to his work. He was trying to remember what was he dreaming about, but he couldn't evoke anything - it was a complete blur. The strange feelings and voices seemed natural to him, because they have been part of his life for years now, but they never happened so frequently than in the past weeks. He never said anything to anyone about it - except for Mari - and he started to worry that maybe he had some kind of a problem with his brain. He always had this feeling that something was missing. All the time. Something was missing, something was not right, and he felt like he should know what that thing was, and yet, he didn't.

He was cleaning one of the ovens when he felt a sharp pain hitting his head. He stooped down and shut his eyes, trying to grab the edge of the counter as he dropped to his knees. The floor was hard and cold, but the pain in his knees were nothing compared to the ache in his head. It felt like someone was trying to crush his skull with a vise, locking him into a tight grip and not letting him go. Yuuri let out a painful moan, and he pressed his left hand to his head, like he could make it better by grabbing his own hair.

'Yuuri! What's wrong?! Yuuri!'

Mari's voice sounded like a hammer hitting his temples. Yuuri could see the blurry silhouette of his sister kneeling beside him on the floor, and he could feel her cold hands on his shoulders, but he couldn't say a word.

'What's wrong, Yuuri? Talk to me!'

The tight grip around his head loosened up a bit, and Yuuri was finally able to open his eyes.

'It's... fine. J-just a migraine,' he muttered, trying to hold onto the counter.

Mari grabbed his arm and helped him, but she didn't let him go even after Yuuri was standing on his feet.

'It doesn't look fine,' she said. 'Go to your room and have some rest.'

Yuuri took a deep breath and gently pushed Mari's hand away. The sharp white lights of the kitchen were hurting his eyes.

'No. I don't need rest.'

'Yuuri, you can't work like this.'

'I told you, I'm-'

'Yuuri!'

Mari's voice was strict and it left Yuuri with no choice. He took a deep breath, then nodded.

'Okay, okay,' he surrendered. 'I'm leaving.'

He could feel Mari's worried gaze on his back when he left the kitchen. He could hear his father's voice from his and Hiroko's bedroom, but instead of going upstairs, Yuuri glanced back to check if Mari was still watching him - when he made sure she wasn't, Yuuri took his hoodie from the hanger then sneaked out of the house.

Hasetsu was slowly starting to open its sleepy eyes, placing a chilly, gentle kiss on Yuuri's skin as he went outside. He looked back for a moment. His eyes were lingering on the building for a while, remembering all those twenty four years he has spent here, and filling his mouth with a bittersweet taste. There was a sign with the word 'Yu-topia' hanging next to the door, slowly dancing back and forth in the morning breeze. Yuuri turned his back on the restaurant, and started walking alongside the river, getting further and further away from the house. He put on his hoodie, then pushed his hands inside his pockets. His original plan was to walk to his grandma's home which was standing on the hill under the castle, but he changed his mind.

The headaches were getting worse lately. The sounds and the weird emotions were getting worse as well.

But none of them were aching so hard than the wasted opportunities in his life.

He was staring at his sneakers as he walked down the street, occasionally looking up and saying hi to an old friend or a neighbor with a fake smile on his face. When Yuuri finished high school, all of his friends left Hasetsu to continue their studies in a college. Most of them were in Tokyo, but some of them traveled even further - to other countries across the ocean. Yuuri stayed at home to help his parents with the struggling restaurant. He planned to stay home for a few months, then move to Tokyo and go to college. Then the months turned into years and Yuuri was stuck in his own life.

He wanted to become a vet - this dream has been with him since he was just a small child. He would always play that with Mayu, pretending to be a doctor and cure her from all kinds of illnesses. And yet, when Mayu became sick for real, Yuuri couldn't save her. He didn't even notice she was sick. It was an usual day, starting out like it always did, waking up at 5.20 and walking downstairs to take out the trash, cleaning the kitchen and preparing it for lunchtime.

But when Yuuri called Mayu's name to invite her to their usual morning walk, Mayu didn't come. Ever since she became older, Mayu left Yuuri's bed for the nights and she always slept in the living room, because she preferred to be alone - and when Yuuri walked inside that morning, she was already in a never ending sleep in her basket, curled up like a little puppy. When Yuuri touched her, her body was cold and stiff under her white fur. Yuuri was sitting there for minutes, with the blue leash still in his hands, holding onto it like an anchor, staring at the lifeless body in front of him without any tears in his eyes.

There were still days when he reached for the leash and opened his mouth to call her, but the name always froze to his throat before he could say it out loud.

The local vet said that Mayu's sudden death was caused by a heart disease. Yuuri associated Mayu's lower stamina with her age, and he couldn't forgive himself for not taking it more seriously.

His throat tightened whenever he was thinking about her. His legs were still moving, taking him to an unknown location, further and further away from his home. He walked past the gate of the train station, then sat down on one of the benches on the platform. It was almost 6.30, and the people around Yuuri were all waiting for their train to take them to work. Yuuri glanced up to the timetable. The train to Fukuoka could arrive in any minute, and the men and women around Yuuri started to form a smaller group on the platform, staring at the rails or their watch while waiting. They didn't even look up when the familiar noise of the train filled the air - not like Yuuri. His eyes started sparkling when he heard the train, and he instantly turned his head to follow it with his eyes as it arrived. It was the usual yellow local train, quite old and ugly, but Yuuri always admired them. When he was a kid, the majority of his toys were trains. Trains of all kinds, small and big, new and old, blue and red, yellow and white. He wanted nothing more than to buy a train ticket to a big city and admire the view from the window, listening to the loud noise of the engine, and getting off at the end of his journey to breathe in the air of a completely different place.

Yuuri's never been on a train. Ever. It sounded ridiculous, but it was true.

He wanted to go to college and he wanted to begin his own journey already - but he couldn't bring himself to leave his parents behind. They needed his help, and the restaurant was struggling. Yuuri got up every single day feeling guilty about his emotions, feeling guilty about his dreams and goals, and feeling terrified that they won't ever become reality if he continues like this. And it's been going on for seven years. Yuuri was stuck in his own life and he didn't know how to break free.

He was watching the people get on the train to Fukuoka, then the doors closed and the train left the station.

Yuuri heard the sound of a suitcase rolling on the ground. He turned his head and saw a young girl packed with bags and with a big, pink suitcase, accompanied by her parents. They came out of the building, and the father was holding a ticket in his hand. They stopped at the edge of the platform, next to a new, white train, and the girl hugged her parents. Her father gave her the ticket, then kissed her face and helped to put her bags on the train. Yuuri glanced at the timetable and he could feel the bitter taste in his mouth when he read that the train was leaving in five minutes - to Tokyo.

Yuuri wanted to switch places with that girl, and he felt pathetic because of it. He loved Hasetsu, but he hated it - he wanted something new, something fresh, something more.

His thoughts were chasing each other in his head. He pressed his lips together and reached into his pocket, checking if he had any money, but he didn't - then he just felt stupid for thinking about getting on that train just like that.

_How would my parents react?_

_They have no idea I don't want to be here._

The girl got on the train and sat down next to the window, leaving behind her parents and waving as the train started moving. Yuuri stood up and turned his back on the girl and her parents, ignoring the sound of the train and walking away without even looking back. His heart was heavy, and tears were burning in the corner of his eyes.

He left the station, and started walking towards his home, but this time, he chose a different path. He was walking next to the ocean, crossed the bridge, lost in his thoughts and wearing a frown on his face without even noticing it. But when he left the bridge, Yuuri stopped. He furrowed his brows and looked up, trying to grasp the weird feeling in his stomach - and after exploring the area for a few seconds, his eyes stopped at a building called the Ice Castle. Yuuri opened his mouth and let out a small, weak sound, like he wanted to say something but didn't exactly know what and why. He's never been inside that building, and yet, he felt like he's already been here. He has, of course, he saw the Ice Castle almost every single day from the distance, but he's never been so close. He was standing next to the stairway, and the weird deja vu feeling just wouldn't leave his heart. Then two teenagers walked past him with a loud, obnoxious giggle, and that woke him up. Yuuri winced and quickly continued his way towards his home, and when he arrived, Mari was just storming down from upstairs.

'Where have you been?!' she asked, grabbing Yuuri's shoulder, then checking his forehead with her palm. 'I told you to have some rest!'

'I'm okay,' Yuuri said, walking towards the back door with his sister behind his back.

Yuuri sat down on the porch and Mari appeared next to him with a glass of water in her hands.

'Here.'

'Thanks, but I don't-'

'Drink!'

'Fine.'

Yuuri accepted the glass and Mari sat down next to him.

'Yuuri, what's wrong?'

'Nothing,' Yuuri said, taking a sip from the cold water. 'Why?'

Mari raised one of her brows.

'I can see it on your face. Come on.'

Yuuri sighed and tried to be as quiet as possible. He didn't want his parents to hear him.

'I saw a girl at the train station. I was just sitting there, you know-' he muttered, but Mari understood. She knew him more than anyone, and Yuuri didn't have to explain himself to her. 'It seemed like she was leaving for college. And I realized I've never been outside of Hasetsu.'

The early morning sun was warm and gentle against Yuuri's skin. He was holding onto the glass, drawing tiny circles on it with his thumb. Mari was looking at his face with furrowed brows, leaning on her knees and taking a deep breath.

'Why don't you tell 'em?'

Mari's voice was even more quiet than Yuuri's. She always sounded calm and collected.

'They have no idea,' she added, shaking her head and turning away to look at the house. 'They don't know that you wanna go to college. They think you like it here.'

Yuuri's answer was fast.

'I do,' he said. 'I like it. But this is... this is not what I want.'

'What do you want then?'

It was quiet for a long time. All they could hear were the birds and the river, and their parents from the kitchen. Then Yuuri finally said something.

'I wanted to... I want to become a vet. You know that. I want to travel and I want to go to college and I want-'

Yuuri's voice was weak, and he couldn't finish his sentence. He just shrugged and glanced at Mari for a moment, but he didn't continue. The words were heavy in his throat and he couldn't defeat them.

'You want what?' Mari asked, and her voice was patient. Just like the soft morning breeze against Yuuri's skin.

'I want so many things,' he admitted with a sigh. 'Things I've never had a chance to try.'

Mari's lips curled into a half smile.

'You want a girlfriend?'

Yuuri could feel his ears burn.

'What?! No! That's not what I-'

'A boyfriend then?' Mari added with the same expression.

The glass slipped out of Yuuri's hand and shattered to pieces on the wooden stairs. Yuuri was staring at Mari with wide eyes. His lips parted but he couldn't say anything, ice cold fingers crawled down into his lungs and blocked the way so air couldn't get through. Mari's smile disappeared. She could see sweat rolling down Yuuri's temple and she could hear his heart pounding. She slowly reached out to him and touched his shoulder, but Yuuri brushed her arm off and jumped up. Mari was quick to follow him and grabbed his arm before he could run inside the house.

'Hey, Yuuri, it's fine-'

'But I'm not like _that_ -'

Yuuri's voice was shaking, and he didn't look at his sister, he just wanted to break free and run away - but Mari didn't let him.

'It's okay,' she repeated, pulling him into a forceful hug and holding him tight. 'It's okay. I won't tell anyone.'

Yuuri didn't hug her back. His hands were hanging next to his body, and he was staring at the wall behind Mari's back. He felt exposed, he felt naked, he felt vulnerable and defenceless. And he felt so, so ashamed.

'How did you-'

'I'm your big sister. Of course I know.'

*

After lunchtime, Yuuri walked upstairs and threw himself on his bed. He buried his face into his pillow and he stayed like that for long minutes.

After that conversation on the porch, Yuuri couldn't act the same in the kitchen. He did his job and he did what needed to be done, but he couldn't really look his sister into the eyes. Mari didn't act any differently, and Yuuri was grateful for that, but he couldn't help but feel ashamed.

He's never been in a relationship. There was this girl, a girl named Yuuko - and Yuuri liked her a lot. She was always kind and helpful, and she was Yuuri's first friend when he began high school. But over the years, Yuuri noticed that there were tiny moments when his eyes lingered a little bit too long on the boys in his class. He started to think about how it would feel to touch a boy, to hold his hands, to kiss him, to be in love with him.

Yuuri realized that he still liked girls - but he liked boys more. He wanted to keep it a secret and he wanted to keep it locked in the back of his mind, because even though he knew this wasn't his choice and it wasn't wrong, it still felt wrong. He never wanted his parents to find out, and he had no idea that Mari knew about it.

Yuuri rolled over onto his back and covered his eyes with his forearm. He took a deep breath then took his sketchbook from the nightstand. When he leaned over for a pencil, his fingers touched something like a cigarette instead. He dropped the pencil to the floor and when he leaned down to pick it up, the rich and earthy scent of a river crawled into his nose. Yuuri cursed under his breath and picked up the pencil, then laid back down and started drawing. He wasn't very good at it, but it always made him feel better. The sound of the pencil against the paper, the smell of the eraser when he made a mistake - somehow, these made him feel at ease. His hand was moving without thinking.

He was doodling two eyes, almond shaped and somehow cat-like, with brows like frost and with thin, long lashes like fairy wings. The right eye was almost completely covered by sidebangs. Yuuri stopped and stared at his drawing for a while, then reached for the eraser. His hand stopped in mid air, not sure about his own intentions.

Then he erased the sidebangs and drew them back - but this time, he sketched them in front of the left eye.

He had no idea why, but it looked better like this. It looked right.

Yuuri didn't use any colors, but when he stared at the eyes on the paper, they seemed sharp and gentle somehow, with a lively sparkle in the colorless irises, filling them with emotions. That feeling of familiarity was there again, and even though Yuuri could swear that he has never seen a person with eyes like these, he felt otherwise.

He flipped to the next page and wanted to sketch the whole face, but after outlining the head, he stopped. He didn't know how to continue.

He felt like he knew someone with eyes like these, but he knew that every single person he knew had brown eyes.

Yuuri put his notebook down and turned to his side. He was thinking about Yuuko.

_I'm sure she is having a great time in Kyoto. She always wanted to live there. I wonder what she's doing right now._

_And what about Minami? I haven't talked to him in ages._

_The truth is, I don't really talk to anyone._

Yuuri closed his eyes to block the tears from trickling down his face.

 

_I'm heading to college. I couldn't sleep last night, and I'm exhausted. I see him for the first time, but he seems familiar. He is standing on the train and he is wearing a suit. His eyes are the most beautiful blue eyes I have ever seen. I feel like I've seen them before. When he catches me looking at him, I feel the warmth in my cheeks and I turn away. When I go to bed that night, I fall asleep with his memory in my mind. The morning comes, and he is on the train again. He comes up to me and politely says hi. I feel so embarrassed. I think he is talking to someone else, but he doesn't. He asks for my number. He takes me to a restaurant then he gives me a ride home. I want to kiss him, but I don't have the courage. I get out, then I change my mind and get back inside - and I do it. After a few months, I introduce him to my family and I show him how to cook my favorite meal, katsudon._

_I run to him, and he fades away._

_But what's his name?_

_He is sitting in the classroom when I arrive. I see him for the first time, but he looks familiar. The teacher introduces me, and I'm shaking. I'm not confident when it comes to English and I can't find the courage to talk to my classmates. He always sits behind me, and he seems really nice. I always want to turn around and talk to him but I can't. One day, I pronounce something incorrectly and the girls laugh at me. He stands up and he becomes really angry, and he defends me. I have to cry, and I run outside. He comes after me, touches my shoulder and tells me that he's going to help me with English. We meet every day after school. He makes me smile and I'm always happy to see him. At the end of the school year, I find a love letter in my backpack._

_Then I run to him, and he disappears._

_I'm holding his body in my arms._

_But what's his name?_

_I'm at a banquet. I can't believe I can finally meet him in person, but I don't have the courage to talk to him. He arrives to my house a few months later and I can't even look at him. But I don't send him away - and as the time goes by, he opens up to me and I open up to him. He reaches for me and I take his hand, then we step on the ice together._

_We're standing on the edge. The ocean's mist is cold on our cheeks. The lighthouse is like a peaceful giant behind us, trying to reach the clouds while throwing fireballs at the angry ocean. He tosses his medal into the ocean. It's dark and the wind is embracing me with its ice cold hands, but when he pulls me into his arms, I don't feel cold anymore._

_Then I run to him, and he turns into dust._

_I'm standing at his grave._

_But what's his name?_

_I look at him and my lips curl into a smile, which turns into a laugh. He leans forward and he wraps his arms around me. I feel like I'm home. His body is warm against mine. Our rings are gleaming in the sleepy sunset. He turns his head to kiss me, and my glasses are in the way but we don't care - I kiss him back._

_Oh. I know. I remember you._

_Your name is Viktor._

_'Viktor?'_

_'Yes?'_

_'Could you give me a pen?'_

_He looks up and furrows his brows._

_Brows like frost and lashes like fairy wings._

_'Why?'_

_I sit up and turn towards the nightstand. Makkachin is sleeping next to Viktor's leg._

_'I don't want to forget this dream.'_

_'What are you talking about? You're not dreaming. Are you okay, darling?'_

_I find a pen. I reach for it, then I push the tip against my palm and start forming the letters._

_Your name is Viktor._

 

Yuuri woke up drenched in sweat. The afternoon sun was peeking into his room with its warm, orange gaze. Yuuri sat up and reached for his sketchbook, but he couldn't find his pencil. He was trying to find it between the sheets, making a mess and panting desperately, feeling the whole room spinning around him. When he finally found it, he opened the sketchbook and started drawing with shaky fingers.

The only noises in the room were his heavy breathing and the pencil against the paper.

But the only thing he managed to draw was two lines, and then he forgot what he wanted to do. He dropped the pencil and buried his face into his hands, but when he wanted to look up, he noticed something on his palm. A word, written in clumsy latin letters.

A name.

Yuuri tried to take a breath but his mouth was so dry that the air was sharp and painful against his throat.

Yuuri jumped up and opened his door with a loud bang, then stormed into Mari's room without knocking. She was sitting in the window, talking on her phone. When Yuuri stormed inside, she stared at him with wide eyes.

'What the hell are you-'

'Mari, look-'

'Yuuri, I'm on the phone! Shut up and leave! And learn to knock!' she hissed, gesturing with her free hand like she was trying to chase off a fly.

'This is important!' Yuuri said, walking closer to Mari and showing her his palm without thinking. 'Look!'

Mari opened her mouth to send him away once again, but when her eyes wandered to his palm, her expression changed. She stared at Yuuri's hand for a while, then glanced at his face and back to his hand.

'I'm gonna call you back. Sorry,' she said slowly, then put her phone on the window sill.

Yuuri was still holding his hand in the air, and Mari slowly reached for it and run her fingers through the letters.

'What is this?'

'I woke up like this,' Yuuri explained. His voice was excited.

Mari was still holding Yuuri's hand. She glanced up to her brother and furrowed her brows.

'What? You did this in your sleep?' she asked in disbelief.

'Yes,' Yuuri said. His fingers were shaking, and his eyes were sparkling. 'This is the first time I remembered something from one of those dreams.'

Mari let go of his hand and rested her back against the wall. The warm breeze was playing with the curtain.

'Do we know someone with this name?'

Mari scoffed.

'Of course not, what kind of name is that? German or something?'

Yuuri could see the doubtful look on his sister's face. She wanted to believe him, she really did, but she couldn't. She was staring at Yuuri's palm with furrowed brows, and it looked like she was lost in her thoughts for a moment.

'I also have a drawing,' Yuuri added quietly, not sure about Mari's reaction.

'A drawing?' she repeated in a skeptical tone.

Yuuri nodded, then held up his forefinger as a sign for Mari to wait, and hurried back into his room. He reached for his sketchbook and walked back to his sister's room. He opened the sketchbook and gave it to her with bated breath. His heart was pounding in his chest like a drum. He hasn't been this excited for a long time, and he couldn't explain why.

Mari took the sketchbook and narrowed her eyes as she looked at the doodle. Yuuri was staring at her face all along, checking her reactions and expecting something like: _Oh, I know this guy!_

But of course, he couldn't see any sign of recognition in Mari's eyes.

She was still lost in her thoughts, glancing up at Yuuri sometimes then back to his drawing.

'So... who's this?'

Yuuri wanted to say something, but the words froze in his throat.

_Really... who is that? Why did I want to show these eyes to my sister?_

_Why did I think that they had a connection with the name on my palm?_

_Why?_

_Why do I know that these eyes are blue, even though I didn't color them?_

Flower petals were carried inside by the wind. They fell to the floor and stared chasing each other.

'I... I don't know,' Yuuri admitted, his voice distant and defeated. 'I don't know.'

He took the sketchbook from Mari and turned his back on her, walking towards the door and staring at the floor with his hands shaking.

'Wait!'

Yuuri stopped on the doorstep, but he didn't look at Mari. He was waiting. He could feel her hesitation in the air.

The familiar sound of the river and the birds were melting together with the distant noises of the neighbors chatting on the sidewalk. Yuuri could hear a laugh from the kitchen.

'Yuuri, do you... do you believe in reincarnation?'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From now on, the chapters will probably be written like the first one, with mixed POVs.
> 
> I know this chapter was kinda boring, but that was the point, I guess. This guy has a boring life and he hates it.
> 
> still,i'm sorry if you fell asleep, lol


	4. A Life Between His Arms

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to write a longer, mixed chapter with Viktor and Yuuri like I promised, but I have a migraine and I'm not amused, so i'm sorry but this is just a short little something with Vitya.  
> so yeah, this is not much at all, but I hope you won't be disappointed!

Viktor sat on the couch and tried to hold back a long, not at all elegant yawn. He looked around and narrowed his eyes as the late afternoon sun caressed his worn out face with its sharp fingernails. His phone - which had woken him up a few seconds ago - was nowhere to be seen, and Viktor tried to gain some willpower before he finally got up to look for it.

It was in the kitchen, but before even looking at it, Viktor boiled some water for his third cup of coffee that day. He leaned against the counter and glanced at his phone. He had five missed calls, two from an unknown number, and three from his ex-manager. Wrinkles of undeniable surprise appeared on Viktor's forehead, and his hand holding the cup stopped in mid air. Viktor didn't even check the other number - he immediately called his old manager back.

It has been ringing for a few seconds when the man finally answered.

 _'I thought you were dead,'_ the familiar voice said in a slight French accent.

Viktor couldn't help but smile.

'Nah, you're not that lucky,' Viktor replied in English, sitting down at the table with his coffee. 'We haven't talked in ages.'

 _'Well, you kind of fired me,'_ the other man said.

'I actually fired myself,' Viktor added, stirring his coffee with a spoon. 'Let me guess. You saw the news about me, and you're _shocked.'_

_'Yeah, sharing an apartment with your gay ass for six years was not enough to convince me.'_

Viktor chuckled, and took a sip from his coffee.

'Thanks, Chris.'

_'You can count on me. Hey, I wanted to ask you if you're okay, Vitya.'_

Viktor put down the cup, closed his eyes for a few seconds, then took a deep breath.

'Yeah,' he said. _'_ Yeah, I'm fine.'

Viktor could literally feel Chris rolling his eyes by the sounds he made.

 _'Of course you are,'_ Chris sighed. _'Look, even though I'm not your manager anymore, I get a shit ton of phone calls every day because people want to make interviews with you and-'_

'I don't want to do that,' Viktor said without any kind of consideration. 'You know I don't. I don't have to defend myself, I didn't do anything-'

_'Yes, but would you let me talk, dumbass? Listen, I didn't want to bother you with this, because I know you and I knew you would say no, but this is different.'_

'How it is different?'

 _'A lot of idiots had called me and I told them exactly where to go and what to do with themselves in exact detail,'_ Chris started. _'But there was a woman who was different. She wants an honest, serious interview with you, she wants to give you a chance to talk about yourself and your life.'_

'I don't want to talk about my life.'

_'She's from The Perspective.'_

'What?'

'Yeah.'

 _'What the hell_ does a top American newspaper want with an ex-ballet dancer?'

Chris scoffed.

_'You're not just an ex-ballet dancer, you idiot. You represented your country around the world for years, you got hundreds of thousands of kids into ballet, your dear mother was the greatest Russian actress of the eighties, and damn, there is a movie about your career and-'_

'Okay, stop,' Viktor said quickly. 'I still don't see why should I do this interview.'

_'It isn't just an interview. She wants to convince her boss to put you on the cover.'_

Viktor almost dropped the cup.

'What? Why would she want that?'

 _'Look, man, this is not something we can discuss over the phone. If you're interested, then we should talk about it in person. I honestly think this would be a great opportunity for you. And for your family,'_ Chris added in a meaningful tone.

Viktor put Chris on speaker, then leaned back and glanced at the fridge with the drawing on it which Nina had made for him a few days ago. The harsh, bitter taste of black coffee scratched his throat. He pressed his lips together for a moment, then shook his head and shrugged.

'Okay. Fine, but if she asks me one, _just one_ stupid question about that night-'

_'Don't worry, she won't-'_

'Wait, someone else is calling me,' Viktor said, furrowing his brows and leaning forward to take a better look at the phone screen. 'I'm gonna call you back later.'

_'Okay. Give Nina a hug for me, yeah?'_

'Of course. Thanks, Chris,' Viktor said, then checked the other number.

It was the same one that had called him earlier.

_Maybe it's about Nina._

Viktor felt like his stomach was sinking lower and lower inside his body. He pressed the green button next to the unknown number, and he didn't have to wait at all.

_'Mr. Nikiforov?'_

Viktor made a confused frown, then rested his elbows on the wooden table.

'Yes,' he said hesitantly. 'Who am I talking to?'

_'I am Ms. Voronova, Nina's homeroom teacher. I'm terribly sorry for bothering you, Mr. Nikiforov, but I have been trying to reach you all afternoon.'_

Viktor stood up immediately, causing his chair to crash against the counter behind him.

'What's wrong? What happened to Nina?' he asked, staring at the wall with wide eyes. His hands began to shake.

He saw that day, that day when he received that one phone call, and he could feel the desperation, the emptiness, the pain all over again.

Like a knife twisted in his gut, fear washed over Viktor like a cold shower, slowing him down and speeding everything around him up, making him unable to move.

_'She is fine, but she got into a serious fight with her classmate. She is at the principal's office. I would like to ask you to come in as soon as possible.'_

Viktor rushed towards the loft's door, holding his phone between his shoulder and his jaw.

'Of course, Ms. Voronova, I'm on my way,' he said, trying to put on his shoes with one hand. 'Thank you for calling me.'

Viktor grabbed his coat and his keys in a hurry then put his phone in his pocket. He closed the door in a haste, then ran to the elevator and pushed the button way too many times. He walked back and forth, but he lost his patience and decided to use the stairs. He stormed down without care, ran into the garage then jumped into his car. While he waited for the garage door to open, he started the engine and began drumming his fingers on the steering wheel.

The short drive to Nina's school has never felt so long and infinite before. He forgot to use his turn signal multiple times, he accidentally ran a red light, and it was only when he arrived at the school's parking lot when he realized that he haven't been paying attention to the speed limit - at all.

He took his sunglasses off and entered the old, ornate yellow building in haste. He glanced at his watch - it was almost 1 pm, which meant that he managed to get here in just fifteen minutes.

As Viktor entered the building, he politely said hi to the janitor and made his way towards the second floor. The corridors were full of kids, and many of them downright stared at him without shame. He went up the old marble staircase where the only source of light was the faint sunlight peeking inside the small, gothic window on the wall. When Viktor finally reached the teacher's room and knocked on the door, he realized that he hadn't even brushed his hair before he left his apartment. The door opened up almost immediately, filling the dim hallway with bright light from the room. Viktor waited for Ms. Voronova to leave the room before greeting her with a gentle handshake.

'Good afternoon, Mr. Nikiforov,' the young woman said with a small nod, closing the door behind her. 'Thank you for coming in so quickly.'

'Good afternoon,' Viktor repeated, looking around the hallway. 'Thank you for calling me. What happened?'

'Follow me, please,' she said.

She walked along the dark corridor, accompanied by the clicking of her high heels. Her blue dress covered her from her neck to a few inches below her knees, and her long brown hair was in a ponytail. Ms. Sofya Voronova was a small, thin woman, shorter than Viktor even with her heels on. Viktor had met her before, and he had to talk to her in private when their parents died, but it's been a long time since he was last called in like this.

They stopped in front of the principal's office, and Ms. Voronova knocked on the door then turned to look at Viktor. She was young, around twenty-five years old, and she always radiated calmness. Nina liked her.

'She doesn't talk to us,' she said quietly. 'All we know is what the other child said.'

Viktor furrowed his brows.

'The other child?'

Ms. Voronova wanted to say something, but the door opened and the secretary invited them in. When he stepped inside the fancy office, Viktor saw Nina sitting in a chair next to the wall, with a boy sitting to her right, and holding an ice pack to his left eye. Nina was staring at the floor and the boy looked like he had been crying. When he saw Viktor, his face turned even whiter and he quickly looked away.

'Good afternoon, Mr. Nikiforov,' the principal said. He stood up from his chair and got around the big, brown wooden table to shake hands with Viktor. 'Thank you for coming.'

Nina glanced at Viktor for a moment, and when their eyes met, Viktor felt like someone shattered his heart to a million pieces. He greeted the principal then sat down in front of his desk along with Ms. Voronova.

'We called you in because your daughter got into a fight with Denis here and-'

Viktor shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

'Um, I apologize, Mr. Principal, but I'm not Nina's father. I'm her brother.'

Viktor noticed that the principal hasn't looked him into the eyes - not once since he arrived.

'Oh, of course, my mistake,' the old man said while looking through some papers on his desk. 'Where was I? Denis told us that your sister hit him during lunch. We tried to reach his parents but they couldn't come in. Denis insists that he didn't say or do anything that could explain Nina's outrageous behavior, and the girl hasn't told us anything yet.'

Viktor tried hard to hide his emotions. He was sitting on that uncomfortable chair in silence, trying to look as calm and collected as possible. After a few seconds of holding his breath and maintaining an extremely tight grip on the armrest, he finally managed to say something.

'I am sorry for the inconvenience, Mr. Principal. I'm sure we can work this out. Can I talk to my sister in private?'

The principal didn't look particularly pleased with the request, and that could be seen on his wrinkled face when he raised his white brows for a short moment.

'As you wish,' he said and pointed at a door next to Nina. 'You may talk in my room.'

'Thank you, Mr. Principal,' Viktor said with a nod, then stood up and walked to Nina. She got up without question and walked into the room with Viktor. Viktor closed the door behind them and looked around. There was a couch and a tv there, a giant book collection, and an even bigger painting collection on the green walls.

Nina stood beside Viktor with her arms in front of her chest, and she was still staring at the floor.

'Sit down, little one,' Viktor said softly, then touched Nina's shoulder for a moment.

And Nina did, but Viktor didn't follow her. He had been standing there for a while before he could decide what to say.

_What would dad tell her?_

_How would he do this?_

_Should I act as a brother or as a father?_

_What am I supposed to do?_

The sound of the clock on the wall was heavy in Viktor's ears, hitting his head over and over again and filling his brain with doubt. He sighed, then walked up to Nina and crouched down in front of her. They were finally on the same level, but Nina was still fighting her urge to look at her brother.

Viktor watched her little face for seconds. Her lips pressed together and trembling, her fists clenched tight and her hair falling in front of her right eye as she refused to move her hands and brush it away. Viktor opened his mouth but he closed it almost immediately. He glanced at the floor for a moment, then reached for Nina's hair and tucked her hair behind her ear. As his fingers touched her cheeks for a moment, Nina's lips trembled and a single drop of tear rolled down on her face.

'Nina,' Viktor whispered. 'Can you tell me what happened?'

Nina cried in silence, holding onto her own upper body for support. Her green eyes were filled with tears over and over again, and she took a sharp inhale.

'He's lying,' she said quietly, and her shaky, weak voice felt like a punch in Viktor's stomach.

'Okay. I thought so,' Viktor nodded. 'What did he do?'

'I was eating with Anna when I heard him,' Nina continued, wringing her fingers on her lap. 'He was saying really... mean things about you.'

Everything around Viktor started to spin and then went black for one short second. He rubbed the bridge of his nose and took a deep breath.

_I knew it. It's my fault._

'That's why you hit him?' 

Nina nodded.

'Nina, you should... you should apologize to him.'

Nina looked at him for the first time since they came into this room.

'Why? He said really mean things about you!'

Her green eyes were suddenly on fire, shooting anger and pain and confusion at Viktor.

'He's just a boy,' Viktor whispered, then took Nina's hand. 'He said those things because he heard them from his parents, you know?'

Nina turned away.

'But I'm not sorry. Why should I apologize?'

Viktor didn't know what to say. He had no idea what to do. He didn't really want Nina to apologize, but he didn't want her to act like this, even though he knew that it was his fault and no one else's.

'Listen, pumpkin,' Viktor started. 'You shouldn't hit other people. Okay? Unless it's self-defence. And I don't want you to defend me.'

'But-'

'Nina... there will be always people like him. Always. You will always hear mean things about me,' Viktor said, and he was struggling to keep his voice steady. 'That is my burden, and I don't want it to be yours.'

'But doesn't it hurt you?' Nina sniffed and looked into Viktor's eyes. She was desperate. 'Aren't you _sad_ when you hear those things?'

Viktor's lips curled into a faint smile, but the pain in his chest was still strong and still made him unable to breathe properly.

'Of course it hurts. And it used to make me angry,' he admitted. 'But it doesn't make me sad anymore. I don't care about them. And you shouldn't, either. They are ignorant people and they won't change their mind even if you punch them in the face.'

'Have you ever punched someone in the face?' Nina asked with sudden interest.

Viktor let out a quiet laugh.

'Maybe.'

Nina chuckled, and Viktor caressed her face to wipe her tears away.

'That's it. Just laugh at them. Let them stay bitter.'

'Okay,' Nina said, still sniffing.

Viktor reached into his pocket and gave her a tissue.

'This was the thing you didn't want to tell me?' Viktor asked hesitantly.

Nina nodded.

'Did they hurt you, too? Did they say something about you?'

'No,' Nina said, shaking her head. 'They just... talked about you.'

'Are you still friends with Anna?'

'M-hm.'

'Did she say those things too?'

'No.'

'Okay. Don't listen to the bad people, yes? They don't worth it.'

Nina nodded once again, then she glanced at Viktor for a moment, like she was hesitant about something. Viktor didn't have to ask her to know what she wanted; the look in her eye told him everything. He smiled at her then opened his arms.

'Come here, pumpkin.'

Nina reached for Viktor's shoulders and pushed her face against his neck, and as soon as he wrapped his arms around her, Viktor could feel warm tears on his skin. Viktor caressed her trembling shoulders and stared at the ceiling, trying to fight his own tears, trying to keep his anger at bay, trying to hide it from Nina. He wanted nothing more than to flip the table on that old man and call Denis' parents and tell them to go fuck themselves, but he knew he couldn't do that.

He was responsible for another life, the life between his arms - and all he truly wanted was to protect her from every single bad thing the world had to offer.

And he knew that he won't be able to do that. Not forever; and that hurt him more than anything else.

After Nina calmed down a little, they went back to the office. Viktor had his hand around her shoulder all along. The principal was on the phone with someone, while Ms. Voronova was sitting next to Denis. When she saw Viktor and Nina, she jumped up immediately.

'Can I ask you to do something, Ms. Voronova?' Viktor said quietly. 'Could you take Nina and Denis outside for two minutes?'

The woman looked at Viktor hesitantly, glancing at the principal for a second. She nodded, then guided the kids outside. Viktor sat down in his chair and crossed his legs. He looked into the principal's eyes, and when the man noticed his gaze, Viktor flashed an innocent smile at him.

'Oh, I'll call you back later,' he said, then put his phone down. He coughed and quickly averted his eyes from Viktor, pretending to look for something in his drawer. Viktor followed each and every one of his movements with his eyes, and he was still smiling.

'Mr. Dimitrov,' Viktor started in a calm tone. 'With all due respect, I'm not paying this school eight thousand roubles per month for you to not even have the basic decency to look me in the eyes. I can assure you, sir, I'm not contagious.'

The old man looked like he just swallowed a bag of lemons. He looked up and stared at Viktor with his blue eyes almost popping out of his head.

'Sir, I am afraid I don't understand what you-'

'The boy is lying and you know that,' Viktor continued, interrupting the principal and earning an unapproving look from him.

'Mr. Nikiforov, I would like to ask you to change your tone. Your sister did something that would have her expelled if-'

'I'm just stating the truth, sir,' Viktor said, holding his hands up for a moment. Then his smile disappeared from his face, and his sharp eyes became colder than the longest night of a Siberian winter. 'I hope you are not planning to punish my sister for someone else's crime.'

Mr. Dimitrov shifted in his seat.

'Of-of course not. I would never do that.'

'You just told me she should be expelled, sir.'

'Yes, technically, those are our rules-'

'That is interesting,' Viktor added with a thoughtful look on his face. 'I believe it is also a rule to avoid discrimination of any kind, which - if I'm not mistaken - includes homophobia.'

Mr. Dimitrov was sweating so hard that Viktor could see a salty drop falling to his desk.

'Well, yes, that is correct,' the principal muttered, and his head was slowly turning into a big, hairy plum. 'Well then, um, maybe we should settle this with a mutual apology.'

'That is what I thought,' Viktor said cheerfuly, and he was smiling again. 'I knew we would understand each other. Maybe we should go out for a drink sometime, don't you think?'

Mr. Dimitrov tried to flash an awkward smile at Viktor, but his face looked like he was having a serious crisis on the toilet. He called Ms. Voronov and the children back inside, and once they were there, he stood up.

'We, um, discussed the incident and decided to settle it with a mutual apology,' he stated. 'Denis, please apologize to Nina, and to Mr. Nikiforov as well.'

The boy's jaw dropped, and he almost burst into tears. Viktor stood up then stepped behind Nina and put his hands on her shoulders.

'But I'm-' Denis started in a high-pitched voice.

'Denis,' Ms. Voronova said softly, touching the boy's back. 'You heard the principal. Apologize to them, please.'

Denis pressed his thin lips together, then wiped a single tear away from his brown eyes. His face was turning more and more red with each second, and he had to struggle for minutes before he could look at Nina.

'I'm sorry for... for saying those things about your b-brother,' he said with a small nod, his voice shaking, then he looked up at Viktor.

His eyes constantly shifted between the floor and Viktor's face, and Viktor started to feel sorry for the kid. He wanted to say that this was not necessary when Denis finally started talking.

'I-I'm sorry for... I apologize for what I said-'

His voice trailed off, and they couldn't hear the rest of the sentence.

'Very good, Denis,' Ms. Voronova whispered.

Nina stared at him with narrowed eyes, then glanced up at Viktor. He nodded, then Nina turned back to Denis.

'I'm sorry for punching you in the face.'

Viktor had to cough to hold back a laugh, and Ms. Voronova had to press her lips together as well.

'Wonderful,' Viktor broke the silence. 'I'm glad we could settle this. Now, if you excuse me-'

'Of course, of course, I don't want to hold you up,' Mr. Dimitrov said quickly, and he wanted to sit down again when Viktor walked closer to him and shook his hand and placed his arm on his shoulder. He leaned closer on purpose.

'Thank you, sir. This school is so lucky to have you. I won't forget about that drink,' Viktor said with a wink, and the pure terror on Mr. Dimitrov's face made his smile even wider.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so you gonna ask me: you useless tree with a big ass, tell me HOW the fuck is it possible that Yuuri doesn't know who Viktor is? well. it's cause he is not into ballet. it's cause he's not into TV. he's not into celebrities in general. also Viktor is not a big deal in Japan. that's how.
> 
> also if anyone is interested in this minor detail our man drives a champagne colored Maserati Quattroporte cause WELL he isn't really interested in cars but he liked the COLOR and Chris said it goes well with his HAIR  
> i'm just kidding pfft... he actually bought it cause he wanted to listen to that line from Britney's song "you want a maserati? you better work bitch" in an actual maserati. OBVIOUSLY.  
> http://images.car.bauercdn.com/upload/29787/images/maserati03.jpg


	5. I Blinked And The World Was Gone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I realized that my updates are getting slower and slower. I'm sorry. My exams are close and I have a lot to do, which makes it hard to concentrate on writing, and sometimes I just simply don't have the energy for it.
> 
> Thank you for your patience, as always!<3

Yuuri stopped on the doorstep, but he didn't look at Mari. He was waiting. He could feel her hesitation in the air.

The familiar sound of the river and the birds were melting together with the distant noises of the neighbors chatting on the sidewalk. Yuuri could hear a glass break in the kitchen.

'Yuuri... do you believe in reincarnation?'

Yuuri turned around and stared at Mari with furrowed brows.

'What?'

Mari put a cigarette between her thin lips, then inhaled lightly while holding the flame of her lighter to the tip for a moment. She put the lighter back into her pocket, then gave the cigarette a long, strong draw. She blew out the smoke, then gestured towards her bed. Yuuri sat down hesitantly, still holding the drawing in his hands.

'You heard me,' she finally said with the cigarette between her fingers. 'You've been having those dreams since... forever?'

Yuuri's eyes followed the small cloud of smoke which was growing around Mari's head. It became thicker and thicker, then its heavy smell created a strange mixture with the floral scent of the blossoms before leaving the room through the windows.

'Maybe there is just something with my brain,' Yuuri shrugged, staring at the floor.

Mari scoffed.

'I don't think so. These things you always feel... the smells, the noises, all of those weird shit. I think they are real.'

Yuuri looked up immediately, looking for her sister's gaze. When their eyes met, Yuuri felt like a lonely boat being tossed around on the angry ocean, and Mari was the big ship that came to his rescue.

'You can feel them too?'

'No,' she replied, leaving Yuuri alone out in the ocean once again. 'I just think they are real. They are not in your head.'

'But how does reincarnation come into the picture?' Yuuri asked with a frown, looking at the drawing in his hands.

Mari blew out a new cloud of grey smoke. She took her time, thinking about her answer before saying anything out loud. The neighbours were still chatting on the sidewalk outside, and one of them started laughing.

'Maybe you have memories from a past life, and that is what you feel. And that guy-', she said, pointing at the drawing in Yuuri's hands. 'You might have known him in your past life.'

Mari's words crashed against Yuuri's chest and made his heart skip a beat.

He could feel sweat rolling down his temples, and his lips felt unbearably dry. He wanted to turn away, he really wanted to, but he couldn't. He just stared into those sharp blue eyes, looking for something in them - an answer, a memory, a feeling. And they were all there, he could feel them, they were right in front of his nose and yet, he couldn't really put his finger on them.

'Nee-chan, I feel like I... like I still know him,' Yuuri admitted, scared of her reaction, but more scared of his own feelings. That was the first time he actually talked about this thing, and it felt surreal.

Now that he was talking about it, everything started to feel real.

More like a stupid dream, more like a mystery throughout the years, more like something hidden in his thoughts, more like something he could just hide in the back of his brain.

Yuuri didn't look up, but Mari was staring at her little brother with a faint smile on her face. She leaned against the wall, then took a long breath.

'Who is he then? A friend? A lover?'

The heat of embarrassment shot through Yuuri's body like a hot wave. He could feel the warmth spreading and spreading in his cheeks, and he couldn't bring himself to look at his sister. All he wanted was to stand up and run away, and that is exactly what he did.

'Yuuri, stop!' Mari yelled after him, in a motherly tone what made Yuuri unable to disobey.

Yuuri took a deep breath and put his hand on the doorjamb, then turned around.

'What?'

'Don't you want to find him?' Mari asked, raising one of her brows in a judging manner.

Yuuri avoided her gaze once again, then shook his head.

'I don't know. I don't know if he even exists.'

'Let's find out.'

'How?' Yuuri asked irritatedly.

'Try to finish that drawing. Then we'll see.'

*

**_Two Weeks Later_ **

Many days have passed since that conversation with his sister, and Yuuri still hasn't gotten closer to finding an answer. No matter how hard he tried, he could not finish that drawing and he could not remember a single detail from his dreams. He even bought a journal and put it under his pillow to write down anything he remembers as soon as he wakes up, but it was useless.

All he could manage were three words so far.

_Ice_

_Gold_

_Lullaby_

He became more frustrated with every day, and as the stress started to take over, he couldn't even sleep properly anymore. He was always anxious to go to bed, anxious to dream about something meaningful and to remember it when he wakes up, and it never happened.

Maybe because he wanted it so much, maybe because he didn't think about anything else. These dreams and strange emotions have always been part of his life, but in the last few months, they have gotten much more frequent and stronger. To a point where Yuuri could not ignore them anymore, he could not brush them off as something he can just forget about.

His headaches and nauseous moments have become more frequent as well, occurring at least three times every week, ruining his days and making his job in the restaurant ten times more difficult.

The black circles around his eyes could not be hidden anymore, and the grey, unhealthy shade of his skin started to get the attention of his parents. His mother insisted that Yuuri should go and see a doctor, but that was the last thing he wanted.

He still hasn't talked to his parents about his intentions to leave the restaurant, and he had no idea how to start. But lately, he could not think about that.

All he could think about was that man on his drawing, and ha caught himself furiously looking for a pair of eyes like that wherever he walked the streets of Hasetsu. He always loved going out in the city and buying all the ingredients for the restaurant - that was his job as well - but in the past two weeks, it has turned into a stressful task. He was looking for those blue eyes on the advertisements, on the billboards, on the television screens, on the covers of magazines, and even on the people around him.

It was one of those days when Yuuri got into his father's car to take care of the shopping again.

As he drove down the streets to reach the center of the town, he had to stop at a red light. He rolled down the window a bit, and he could instantly smell the heavy, damp air flow inside the car.

Spring was already leaving, forced out of her seat by summer, who was approaching relentlessly, filling the peaceful nights with the songs of crickets and the days with sudden showers and long sunshine-filled hours. As Yuuri waited for the light to turn green, he was thinking about the quick death of spring and the quick death of everything else that was beautiful.

Spring felt like two minutes to him, like an ephemeral, fresh breath of air that arrived on Monday and was already packing up to leave on Sunday. But Yuuri had to realize that spring lasted for three long months - and the trees blossomed for more than a whole month.

That is how it is, isn't it? Beautiful things seem to last for a much shorter time. Maybe that's why winter seems to settle down and wrap its cold fingers around the world for long, long years, while spring evaporates in a heartbeat.

_That's how my life is?_

_That's why every day seems so long and slow?_

_Because my life lacks true happiness and beauty?_

Yuuri was woken up by a furious car horn. He winced, then quickly stepped on the accelerator. He held up his left hand to apologize to the driver behind him, then took a right turn towards the market where he always bought the ingredients for the restaurant.

He stopped the car at an empty parking spot, then got out and started to look for his shopping list in the pockets of his jeans. The owner of a nearby store walked past him and greeted him with a wide smile, to which Yuuri replied with a slight, polite bow.

When he finally found his shopping list, he locked the car and made his way towards the market. Yuuri never liked doing this, because the street market was always full of people - no matter what time he chose to go there. It was the same today as well.

The shops were stuffed, and the street turned into a narrow alleyway because of the many street vendors. People were forced to walk in a straight line in the middle, making it even harder for Yuuri to stay calm. Each of the large tattered wagons on the street looked like colorful stages decorated with various vegetables, fruits, meat, and fish.

Yuuri tried to find everything on his list in the middle of the busy ocean of people, and by the time he was done, he was already sweating like a horse.

He tried to find a more or less peaceful spot, then sat down on a bench and read through the list once more. When he made sure everything was bought, he crumpled the small piece of paper and tossed it into the trash bin behind him.

He could feel the warm, almost too heavy breeze of May on his face, and he had to squint when the bright sunshine found its way out from behind the roundish clouds on the light blue sky. Yuuri glanced to the ground and saw a few stray cherry blossoms left behind from the peak of spring, broken and dirty and trampled on the concrete. He let out a sigh, then just when he wanted to stand up, everything went black around him.

His palm was constantly searching for the hard, dry surface of the wooden bench underneath him, trying to sit back down, trying to find a shelter. Yuuri tried to blink, but all he could see were tiny little lights flashing in front of his eyes. A sudden hot wave rushed through his body, followed by a cold one, then he collapsed on the bench and buried his face into his shaking palms.

For a sudden moment, everything was dark and silent.

Then the colors, the sounds, and the smells came floating into Yuuri's brain like a lively ocean of familiar melodies. Yuuri was sitting in a bright apartment with huge windows. The colorful chairs around the big wooden table felt like vibrant flowers on a fresh springtime meadow. The drawing on the fridge still smelt of crayons and pencils, with a small, dirty fingerprint on the corner of the paper.

As Yuuri glanced at the white wooden floor, he saw a shadow gently moving around. The familiar scent of a cologne filled his brain, but no matter how hard he tried to turn around and see the man behind him, his body would not move.

Plates were clinking against the dishwasher. The flashing lights of the television got lost in the splendid show of the bright, sparkling afternoon sun.

_'Ninushka, chto ty khóchesh' na uzhin'?'_

The voice reached out to Yuuri and grabbed him, then spun him around, cheating the air out of his lungs and stealing the sight from his eyes. Everything was heavy, the air, the noises, the smells, they all weighed on the top of his head like giant pieces of concrete.

_That's him. That's his voice._

Yuuri got up. At least he wanted to. He tried to.

The floor was melting, spinning and slowly sucking him in, getting a grip on his legs with its strong, powerful fists.

_'Mm, nye znayu. Ponchiki?'_

A voice of a child. Pure and gentle. It was coming from the couch in front of the television. Yuuri tried to hold onto something, but his fingers grabbed nothing but thin air.

A light blonde wave of hair washed through him. The freshness of bright green eyes meeting his.

Like a meadow in the middle of an enchanted, hidden forest, just after a quick summer shower - when the plants are still gleaming from the tiny bits of water droplets on their leaves.

The man behind him started laughing. His soft chuckle was like a candle in the window of a lonely little house in a long and cold winter night.

It was like a beloved song, which Yuuri felt like he had known in his entire life - but he couldn't remember the title.

Yuuri blinked, and the world was gone. When he opened his eyes again, he could see the concrete of the pavement under his own shoes.

The loud noises of the street market slowly came back to his ears, and they got louder and louder with each second.

There was a hammering pain in his temples, stretching and ripping his head apart. It took him long seconds to notice the hand on his shoulder.

'Should I call an ambulance? Can you hear me? Yuuri-kun?'

The voice was muffled, barely understandable. Yuuri slowly looked up, narrowing his eyes from the pain that pierced through them.

It was an old man, one of the restaurant's regular costumers. He looked down at Yuuri with his brows melting into a worrisome frown.

'No, please,' Yuuri whispered. 'You don't have to call an ambulance. Thank you.'

Yuuri couldn't bring himself to remember the man's name, and even if he sounded rude and impolite, he just couldn't do it.

'Are you sure?' the man asked. 'You look very pale.'

'I'm sure, thank you,' Yuuri repeated, nodding repeatedly.

Just to prove his point, he forced himself to get up, even though everything was still spinning around him. He reached for his bags, then walked straight ahead without looking back and disappeared into the crowd of the market once again. Every time his vision started to clear up, a sudden wave washed over him and sometimes he would lose his sight for a moment or two, bumping into neighbors and apologizing to strangers. 

He had no idea where he was going. He followed the narrow little alleyway opened to him by the crowd, trying to get away, trying to run.

_Ninushka, chto ty khóchesh' na uzhin'?_

He would hear that over and over again, echoing in his brain and tossing him back into the deep abyss every single time he started to feel better. A thousand small sewing needles were stabbing the inside of his eyes, turning his vision blurry.

There was nothing around him but the familiar scent of that cologne, which, like an unpleasant intruder, tried to force his mind back into a distant past - a past that may have never existed. Like a lost photograph, like a forgotten song. But it was trying to guide hime as well, just like a million fireflies in the darkest of nights.

Yuuri was falling. Air couldn't find the way to his lungs. He was choking on memories. On voices. Smells. Touches.

_The shape of his lips. The moonlight shaking in his eyes. His skin against my own._

_I know I had a dream yesterday, but I don't know what was it about._

Fading echoes in the wind.

_Yuuri, will you..._

Yuuri dropped to his knees and the bags fell out of his hand, scattering the fruits and vegetables around him, creating a living painting on the dull concrete, with full of vibrant, fresh colors. The cars in the parking lot towered over him like sleeping robots, hiding his body from hundreds of curious eyes.

Yuuri sat back on his heels, and tried to breathe. His eyes were closed, forced shut, trying to keep the sunlight away. He tried to open them - slowly and carefully, hissing at the sharp pain that  attacked him immediately.

A foreign woman walked by. Her heels clicked against the concrete repeatedly. She glanced at Yuuri for a moment - at his pale face swimming in cold sweat, at his bags around him on the ground, at the tomatoes and carrots rolling away from him. Their eyes met, and before she quickly averted her gaze back to the sidewalk, she adjusted her bag on her left shoulder.

For Yuuri, everything stopped then.

_Two eyes, almond shaped and somehow cat-like, with brows like frost and with thin, long lashes like fairy wings._

Like a pair of soft hands, the wind caught him and lifted him up, carried him away and filled his lungs with cold, fresh air. 

_Yuuri, will you stay by my side forever?_

A familiar silhouette, backlit by the early morning sun. Blue eyes on fire. A hand reaching out to him.

A sudden, ephemeral golden gleam in the sunlight.

Yuuri's legs started to move on their own. They helped him up and kept him standing, calling out to the woman and trying to go after her as she sped up her footsteps. 

Nothing has ever been so clear.

Yuuri crouched down and quickly swept the vegetables back into his bags, then rushed to his car and tossed everything to the backseat. 

 _The Perspective. The Perspective,_ he repeated over and over again in his mind.

He closed the car and looked for his purse with shaky fingers, running towards the street busy with cars. Not caring about finding the crossing, he ran across the street, avoiding cars every second which were honking their horns at him furiously. Yuuri ran into the first bookshop he saw, the bookshop to which he always went to as a teenager.

He rushed to the section full of newspapers and magazines, his eyes moving swiftly from cover to cover.

_Two eyes, almond shaped and somehow cat-like, with brows like frost and with thin, long lashes like fairy wings._

A drop of sweat rolled down Yuuri's temple. His breathing was raspy, uneven and trying to catch up to him. No matter how long he had been standing there, staring at the covers, he couldn't find what he was looking for.

'Hello. Can I help you? Are you looking for something?'

Yuuri turned around a little bit too fast. The girl seemed concerned, but she still tried to be polite.

'Yes,' he said quickly. 'Yes, thank you. I'm, I'm looking for a magazine called The Perspective.'

'You're in the wrong section. Magazines and books in foreign languages are in the back. You can find German, English, or-'

'Thank you very much!' Yuuri said quickly, then ran off, leaving the girl confused and slightly terrified.

The rows full of books seemed like a labyrinth without an end. The smell of books lingered between the tall shelves, old and new, used and freshly unpacked. It got darker and darker, as the light from the entrance couldn't reach behind the shelves in the back.

As Yuuri reached the back of the shop, only a few highlights of the faint sunrise lingered in the air. The wooden floor cracked underneath his shoes, and a long, shaky breath left his throat. 

It was there - the same magazine that was peeking out of the woman's bag earlier. Right in the corner, hidden among the other ones, barely noticeable and clearly not very popular with the customers.

Yuuri lifted his hand and reached for the magazine. He touched its edges softly, like he was afraid of damaging it somehow. It was cold and glossy. He slowly pulled it out from behind a different magazine, and as it rested against his palms, a small, weak sound slipped out of his mouth.

Something grabbed him by the shoulders and spun him around, tossed him inside that abyss again and pulled him out only to toss him back again. His hands started to shake, his palms started to sweat, and in the next moment, something fell to the cover of the magazine in front of him.

A single teardrop, born unknowingly.

Two eyes, sharp blue, almond shaped and somehow cat-like, with brows like frost and with thin, long lashes like fairy wings. Sidebangs, woven from silver and shining bright like a diamond. Skin like alabaster and lips like soft rose petals, with a fain memory of a long lost smile on them.

One second.

_When he catches me looking at him, I feel the warmth in my cheeks and I turn away. When I go to bed that night, I fall asleep with his memory in my mind. The morning comes, and he is on the train again. He comes up to me and politely says hi. I feel so embarrassed. I think he is talking to someone else, but he doesn't. He asks for my number. He takes me to a restaurant then he gives me a ride home. I want to kiss him, but I don't have the courage. I get out, then I change my mind and get back inside - and I do it._

 

Two shaky breaths.

_I have to cry, and I run outside. He comes after me, touches my shoulder and tells me that he's going to help me with English. We meet every day after school. He makes me smile and I'm always happy to see him. At the end of the school year, I find a love letter in my backpack._

Heartbeat.

We're standing on the edge. The ocean's mist is cold on our cheeks. The lighthouse is like a peaceful giant behind us, trying to reach the clouds while throwing fireballs at the angry water. He tosses his medal into the ocean. It's dark and the wind is embracing me with its ice cold hands, but when he pulls me into his arms, I don't feel cold anymore.

And then the sun came out.

_The song ended and he kneeled down. His hair was falling in front of his left eye, his cheeks were flushed and his sharp blue eyes were sparkling. He was trying to catch his breath, trying to breathe properly. They could hear his rapid breathing in the entire arena, and he slowly lifted his left hand and reached out for Yuuri._

Lost in memories.

_The white, frozen garden was like a small forest; there were multiple trees guarding it, and there was one particular tree in the middle with a bird feeder placed next to it. There was a small old lady there, filling the wooden feeder with seeds and apples, whispering little endearments to the tiny birds around her. Soon, the animals flew away to seek shelter on the branches of the nearby pine trees. The old lady looked up to see what startled them, and she slowly turned around. She was wearing a blue headscarf which somehow melted together with her icy blue eyes._

_A heart skipping a beat. A warm teardrop on the cold ice._

_A cold night. A lighthouse. His brown coat and his silver hair dancing in the wind. The ocean underneath them._

_A medal in the water._

_Pale street lights, grotesque trees, and a snowy sidewalk._

_Four deers on the frozen lake. A train in a dark tunnel._

_A scar underneath his hairline._

_Photographs._

Heartbeat.

 

Yuuri didn't remember how he got back to his car. He was just standing there for a while with nothing but the magazine in his hand.

Nothing has ever been so clear. And nothing has ever been so confusing.

He got into the car and ignored his phone when it started ringing. He was holding the magazine in his hands, stretching his thumb out and slowly brushing it over the cover. The background was light grey, creating a soft contrast with the man's shiny, silver hair. His face was photographed in a way that Yuuri could see each and every one of his eyelashes. He was looking into the camera without a smile, but with a thousand stories in his eyes. His thin lips were sligthly parted, just enough to make it look like a randomly captured moment. The white light reflected on his cheekbones, and his sharp jawline framed his face like it were a valuable painting.

_Viktor Nikiforov - A Strength We Don't Want You To See_

_Exclusive Interview_

Yuuri tried to break away from the man's gaze, but he couldn't. For minutes, he was staring at him, and it felt as if he was staring back, but of course, he wasn't. Yuuri took a deep breath and opened the magazine then flipped through the pages until he found what he was looking for.

_The Living Legend Who Doesn't Want To Be Remembered_

_by Jen Elliston_

The paper was trembling between Yuuri's fingers. The interview was three pages long. There were three more photographs of him. On the first one, the man was sitting on a tall bar stool in front of a grey background, wearing a white shirt with a V-neck. He was not posing, he was just looking into the camera again, with the same expression that could tell a million stories just by a single look. There were gold medals and trophies scattered on the floor around him, like some meaningless objects in a junkyard.

The next one was a photo taken in profile, showing his face from the side. His eyes were closed, and his head was thrown back slightly, showing the slight, low undercut of his hair.

The third photo was different. When Yuuri flipped to the last page to see it, his heart skipped a beat, and heat started to spread in his cheeks. It was him, it was the same man, but he looked completely different from the one one the other photos. He was sitting in a ballet studio, and he was not looking into the camera. He was smiling at someone, possibly the interviewer. And his smile lifted Yuuri up and carried him away, tossed him between a thousand forgotten songs and a million forgotten moments.

His smile was honest, it was bright, it was wide, it was perfect. The way his face changed and lit up, the way his eyes sparkled, the way his sidebang fell slightly in front of his forehead - it mesmerized Yuuri and left him in awe.

Yuuri was too nervous to read the whole interview - his eyes were jumping back and forth between the lines, trying to read everything in one go, but he was not perfect when it came to English.

_"... I fly to Moscow and we meet on a Saturday morning, in his very own ballet school where he teaches young girls and boys from the age of 5 to 18. I'm a bit anxious, unsure of what to expect - but I'm pleasantly surprised. Viktor - because he asks me to call him by his first name right away- arrives with a little girl who, by her looks, could easily be his daughter. After a few seconds, I learn that the child is actually Viktor's sister, whom he had been trying to keep away from publicity as much as he could. Nina - her name is, goes to watch one of the ballet classes taking place in the building, leaving me with her brother in the empty ballet studio. He offers me a cup of Russian black tea, and I accept it, of course."_

Yuuri could feel his heartbeat in his throat. He felt like he was there, in that studio, sitting with them. He could smell the black tea in the air.

_"We talk about small things for minutes, and along those minutes, I can already see that my fears had been completely baseless. Viktor is down to earth, he smiles a lot, and absolutely none of the stereotypes about Russian men apply to him. I can see that he was worried about my visit, but as soon as we saw me, he calmed down."_

As Yuuri read that name over and over again, he had to pause multiple times and take deep breaths. His head was still throbbing, but his vision has never been clearer.

_"I was born in St. Petersburg, and that is where I lived for five years. When my mother left us, me and my father moved to Moscow. He met my stepmother, and we lived here together until my sister was born. I was nineteen years old at that time, and my parents wanted to move back to St. Petersburg. I didn't want that, everything I had was here - friends, university, ballet. So I stayed here."_

_Viktor is much more honest and open with me than I thought he would be. He tells me about his first years in the city of Moscow._

_"I rented an apartment with my best friend, but there were times when we couldn't pay the rent. I refused to accept money from my father, and I wanted nothing to do with my biological mother, so that is why I didn't ask for financial help. Sometimes me and Chris slept at friends' houses or sneaked into dorms in secret. That's how we lived in the beginning."_

The name 'Chris' was familiar to Yuuri, and he felt like he should know who that person was. But he didn't know.

There were some words he didn't know and couldn't understand, but most of the interview was clear for him. He kept reading, and his fingers were still shaking.

_"It turns out that the best friend was also his manager, the man I talked on the phone to reach Viktor. With the details about his early years in Moscow, he refutes the false rumors about him, which say that he reached his fame and wealth by the help of his biological mother._

_He shares some details about his relationship with his stepmother as well, who passed away three years ago, along with his father._

_"To be honest, I don't like to call her my stepmother. This may sound odd, but I feel like she was my real mother, even though I know she was not my biological parent. I visited my family quite often in St. Petersburg, but even when I couldn't go for half a year, she always called me three or four times a week to make sure I was okay. She was the best mother I could have."_

_I can clearly feel a slight, barely noticeable tremble in his voice as he talks about her. I offer to change the subject, but he says it is not necessary._   
_"She died in breast cancer. She could have been saved, but it was already in the final stage when she noticed it. My father-"_

_He doesn't say more than that, and I can see that it is hard for him to talk about this topic. I wait for him to continue, and after a sip from his tea, he does._   
_"He committed suicide just a month after her death. People often ask me if I'm angry at him for that. You know, that he forced me to retire and take care of my sister at the peek of my career."_

_I ask him - is he angry? He hesitates._

_"I don't feel like I have the right to judge the last decision of a dead man. Am I angry at him for leaving us? Yes. Am I angry because he left my sister? Of course I am. But taking her in was my decision, and I would not have done it any other way. And as for my career, I don't feel sorry for myself. I got to establish this school and I had to realize that I actually love teaching."_

_He laughs, then he looks at his watch. It is almost ten o'clock, and his ballet class is going to start soon. I asked him on the phone if I could watch one of his classes, and because he said yes, I stay in my seat as he apologizes to me and goes to greet his students who slowly flow inside the studio one by one. They are boys, all of them, because Viktor's 10 am class is held for young men. I sit there and I watch them, all of them around fourteen and sixteen years old, talking and joking and looking like normal teenage boys - but as soon as the class starts, the change of their behaviour is incredible._

_Viktor sits back next to me and teaches from there, but it is clearly not his usual way - he gets up all the time, walking back and forth, going up to each boy to correct their posture. He is not just a ballet teacher for these boys, and it is obvious that the respect and admiration in their eyes are not thanks to Viktor's fame."_

Yuuri reached for a tissue in his pocket and wiped the sweat from his forehead. He rolled down the window to let some fresh air inside the car. The distant noises of the market couldn't reach him right now.

_"I can tell that Viktor knows each and every one of his students more than some people know their own children. His passion and his enthusiasm is contagious - suddenly, I feel the urge to join the class. I'm in awe as I watch them, their strength, their dedication, their passion. Viktor, of course, is teaching in Russian, but after I ask him why did he stop one of the boys during his jumps, and what did he tell him, his answer is simple._

_"It doesn't matter how high you jump, what matters is how beautiful your jump is."_

Yuuri's phone started ringing again. Mari was calling him.

He reached for it declined the call.

_"Parents don't know, and they can't know what it takes to become a professional ballet dancer. You have to start with the foundation, with perfect positions and musicality. You have to install posture, the right way to hold your hand on the bar, the right way to hold your head. It is a very slow process, and it means hours and hours of work every day. It is mentoring them every single day. Little by little, I always try to make the class more demanding and more professional."_

_The passion in his voice is something I did not expect. He talks more about his ballet school than he did about his family, and when his sister comes back into the studio and sits with us, she watches the dancers with true interest. The passion of her brother can be seen in her eyes._

_I ask Viktor about his relationship with his students, and his answer is not a surprise at all._

_"I feel extremely responsible for each and every one of them. You have to build their trust as a teacher and you have to build their trust as a man, as an individual. And you have to see them as individuals as well. I basically danced the entire classical ballet repertoire. I choreographed, I put shows together, and all this knowledge is helping me to be a better teacher."_

Someone got into the car next to Yuuri's, then left the parking lot.

_"I stay there to watch the whole lesson, which is not short at all - more than two hours -, but I don't feel bored at all. Not for a second. Viktor's passion makes time fly, and before I notice, the lesson already comes to an end. After his students leave, and I meet some of the parents, I ask Viktor a question which has been nudging the back of my mind since the very beginning._

_"There are some poeple out there who think that ballet is not for boys. What do you think about that?"_

_Viktor - for my surprise - starts smiling._

_"Ballet is quality, responsibility, and strength. You have to have a very strong character in this profession. If these people would come to my ballet class, they could see how masculine, muscular, and athletic these boys are. They would see how demanding this is, both physically and mentally. It's a complex art form where you are not only responsible for yourself, you are responsible for your partner as well. You have to be strong and you have to work really, really hard, and when you are on the stage, you have to smile in the process. You have to make it look like it's effortless. Ballet dancers are incredibly strong - but it's a strength we don't want you to see."_

Yuuri took a sharp inhale and put the magazine on his knees. His phone was ringing again, and when he touched the green button on the screen, Mari was already screaming on the other end.

_'Are you an idiot? What the hell are you doing? Tamiya-san called us and told us that you were running around the market like a zombie. Where are you? Do you have that headache aga-'_

'Mari,' Yuuri interrupted her in a serious, determined tone. 'I found him.'

_'Huh? Found who?'_

'I found the guy from my dreams.'

_'What? Are you serious? Where?'_

'In a magazine.'

Mari scoffed.

_'This is not funny. Listen, come back as soon as-'_

'I'm not joking. It's him. He looks the same. His name is the same. I... remember him. I remember us.'

Silence.

His hand was gripping his phone firmly. He stared in the distance. The crowd of the market was even bigger than before. Yuuri pressed his lips together, and took a deep breath. His eyes were sparkling from determination.

'Mari, I need your help with something. I need to go to Moscow.'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Watch out, Vitya, 'cause Yuuri is on a mission.  
> (Btw I'm not lazy, the scenes from my other fanfic are intentional. That was one of Yuuri's alternative/past lives from an alternative world. If you don't know that story, these little dribbles will mean nothing to you, but I hope there are some people here who will recognize them.)
> 
> **If you want to read the whole interview with Viktor (I wrote the whole thing), feel free to contact me. Also you can send me requests regarding my one shot collection - what do you want to see in the next chap?**  
> tumblr: @allthosebigasstrees


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